


Landslide

by bigdickem (footnoodles)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Deja Vu, M/M, confusing burn, old folk bff zone, put a memory inside a memory inside a memor-
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footnoodles/pseuds/bigdickem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting old is tough. The list of people you know, people you can trust, starts to shrink. Enemies become allies and vice versa. The boundaries between right and wrong begin to blur. After chasing the same goal for years, Jack is closer than ever to the answers he seeks, but the closer he gets the more tangled his web becomes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****Gabriel pulled his hood closer to the back of his neck before slinging his bag over one shoulder. Letting the flow of foot traffic carry him through the airport. Soft light passing through the huge windows, off the tile floors. People mostly giving him a decent berth. With one hand, he pushed his beanie down a little lower on his skull. Opting to ignore some of the nervous glances he received, wondering if he should have come in his dress blues. Joining a program like this didn't require anything like showing up in full dress, and he figured he'd be better off hopping two planes and a potentially long ground trip in sweats. Military ID in his wallet instead of all over his body.

He huffed a sigh out his nose. Following the signs leading him toward baggage claim, where he'd meet a representative. And, maybe, some other soldiers who had opted into this. As he approached the center of the terminal, the scent of food hit his nose. Making his stomach grumble. He doubted they were gonna get fed until well after a tour of the compound they would take him to, and there was no telling how far away the place was in the first place. Gabriel cut a sharp right through traffic to duck into a small cafe, picking up two sandwiches wrapped in plastic packaging and a bottled water. Tucking one sandwich in his bag when he's finished paying. He munches on one slowly as he made his way toward baggage claim. After following traffic through an archway, he was greeted by the sight of waiting family members. Friends. Cab drivers. Eyes scanning the crowd for a sign of where he might need to be going. A suited man was looking in a manilla folder and he took one slight step toward him. As expected, the man looked up, immediately recognizing him.

“Gabriel Reyes?” Grunting in reply, he closed the gap between the two of them. “This way.” Passing through the crowd of people waiting, embracing one another. He took another bite out of the sandwich. There was a large amount of cushy looking benches arranged in the large space of the airport lobby. A woman's voice making an announcement he didn't bother listening to, her words echoing through the high ceilings. Glancing toward the bronze statue of an early flight era pilot.

“We're waiting for one more recruit.” The suit dragged his attention back, facing each other. About a yard behind him was a group of half a dozen people. “You can wait here with the rest of the team.” Without bothering to introduce any of them, the suit made his way back toward the terminal exit. Gabriel shifted his bag before meandering toward the group.

Immediately his eyes caught on a shock of golden hair. The owner leaning forward in his seat, elbows balanced on his knees. Talking animatedly, blue eyes alight. Whatever he was talking about seemed to have the rest of the group's full attention, none of them batted an eye as Gabriel approached. The blonde is mid-sentence as Gabriel dropped himself into a seat nearby. Letting his bag take the empty spot between himself and the nearest member of the group. Without missing a beat, the blonde leans toward him.

“Hey. You too?” He said, a soft smile pulling at his lips. Gabriel, mid bite, just nods silently. The man was wearing military dress. About half of them were. The other half seemed to have had Gabriel's general idea of not bothering with anything but comfort. Judging by the way some of them held themselves, he could only guess it was an experience thing. One too many crowded flights in dress blues. The blonde extended a hand, down the hall of people's knees. There's about three of the recruits between them, sitting on opposite sides of the aisle. “Jack Morrison.”

He swallows quickly, brushing his hand off on his sweats before extending his palm in response. Morrison's grip was warm, professional.

“Reyes. Gabriel.”

“Nice to meet you.” Morrison's smile widens, teeth perfectly white. _Blue eyes, blonde hair, perfect teeth. Looks like Hollywood._ He muses. Before Gabriel can bother replying, Morrison seems to remember whatever he was saying in the first place, diving back into the conversation. He's got a particular gravity about him, and even Gabriel finds himself watching as he engages the people seated around them. After a few minutes the suit re-approaches with another recruit in tow. They all haul to their feet, several of them stretching out stiffness from travel before they follow the suit across the airport. They don't bother stopping at a bag claim. At least for Gabriel, a government goon had showed up and picked up his bag for air transport a couple days before he'd actually flown out. He could only assume they were already at the compound. _Probably a lot of money behind this project, private bag transport. What a thing._ Balling up the empty cellophane, he tossed it in a garbage can on the way out of the building and into the brisk winter air.

“Hey, that's pretty smart.” Morrison's voice cuts into his attention. Catching his blue eyes. In stride directly at his side. Gabriel cocks one eyebrow. “The sandwich. Probably not gonna see any food until well after they give us a tour, huh?” He can't help the chuckle that bubbles up in his chest.

“Usually how it goes.” He surrenders to Morrison's charm. Entering the conversation he'd conveniently skirted for about fifteen minutes. They're approaching a big white van and Gabriel resists the urge to groan. _Of course._ _Nothin' like hiding a national secret in a shitty, white, van._ A chauffeur slides open the van door.

“Suppose it's a little too late to get one.” Morrison rubbed the back of his neck, eyebrows crinkled slightly. They've somehow ended up at the back of the line to get in the van, with Gabriel's insistence on keeping distance from everyone else. He peered up the line to see the chauffeur taking each recruit's bag to throw in the trunk. Without a second thought he reaches inside his own, pulling his water out to have during the ride. Fingers brushing against the second sandwich he'd bought.

“Here.” Without looking at Morrison, he proffers the slightly squished article of food. After a moment of hesitation, looking at his new associate out of the corner of his eye. Watches as a look of surprise softened his expression. Eventually taking the sandwich from Gabriel's palm, gently. Fingertips grazing over his flesh. “Bought one for the road.” He clears his throat awkwardly. A genuine smile cracked over Morrison's face. He nudged Gabriel in the ribs with an elbow. Setting him slightly off balance. He has to pivot slightly, grounding a foot to regain his stance. Startled by the smile tugging at one corner of his lips. Now facing Morrison enough to look him in the eye.

“Hey, thanks.” Taken off kilter by the genuine surprise and gentility there. Modesty.

“Shut up.” Gabriel jabbed back, giving him a light shove in return. Another pass of amusement through his blue eyes. The line shifted up and Gabriel finds himself handing his bag to the driver. Throwing another glance over his shoulder at Morrison. The idiot was standing there, looking at the slightly mushed sandwich in his hand like it were wrapped in a golden glow. He pulled himself up, working his way to the last bench in the van. The first two occupied by three people already belted in and jabbering away. He has to hunch nearly double, ducking past the belts anchored to the walls of the van. Brows furrowing at the familiarly tight space. He always hated these. Finally flopping into the seat, scootching toward the window hurriedly. Morrison isn't far behind. Following suit of ducking and shuffling past every obstacle of extended leg and taut safety belt. Sighing bodily as he dropped into the bench. The last recruit of the group following suit. Pushing Morrison into the middle. Looking at the sandwich in his palms for a minute longer before unwrapping it. Gently, as if intending to save the cellophane like decorative Christmas paper. Gabriel considers looking away, out the window. Remembering the way Morrison had noticed him immediately. Extending a friendly hand.

“You keep staring that way, it might grow mold.” He teased, giving Morrison another friendly nudge. The man jump started.

“Oh I--” Embarrassment ran rampant through his face. “Haha, yeah. Thanks.” Sinking his teeth into a corner. Tucking into what was probably, like Gabriel, his only meal since breakfast. Silence falls between them as the van rumbles to life. Moving toward their destination. Gabriel leaned on the edge of the window, watching the concrete infrastructure of the multi leveled airport entrances converge and split as they passed by. Let his eyes droop shut. Morrison's thigh against his in the confined space.

 

\----------------------------

 

Jack ran a finger around the lip of his glass. Side still aching through the pain killers. Even with Ana's shots, his metabolism just ripped through anything put into his bloodstream. They were helping aid the healing process, as she'd lectured him. Told him to stay put so he'd be set when she got back from recon. Leaving him to rehash the details of what had happened. Over, and over, and over again. The haphazard feeling in his chest started up again. No matter how he might try to forget for the time being, either his head, or his heart, was hellbent on bringing it back up to the other.

He was alive.

Jack wasn't sure whether he was happy or concerned. Maybe even mad. To find Reyes in the situation he had. To find their animosity was just as strong as ever. Stronger even. Reyes hadn't pulled his punches, shooting him in the back like that. Or... Reaper, he supposed. He'd seen some things, some photos. Heard rumours. To think that was...

That familiar voice rasping out commands over a com. The way his heart had raced as he blew into the compound. What had he expected? He wasn't even sure now. Answers maybe.

Sighing, he leaned back into his chair, arms crossed solidly over his chest. The safe house was small, dusty. Devoid of anything minus Ana's few bare essentials. Mostly combat equipment. Holo maps, one small device he recognized. He didn't have the heart to go operate it despite knowing exactly how. He'd seen her do it a thousand times. Eye fond as the blue glow basked her face. Jack wasn't sure he could face something so personal. Not anymore. He wondered if Ana had gotten the call before. Obviously, she hadn't heeded it regardless of if she'd seen it or not. Jack wasn't even sure how Overwatch's system had found him to ping him in the first place. He'd been using throwaway phones for years now. Minutes after receiving the call, he'd purged the phone and destroyed it. Making haste to his next destination. He wanted to feel guilt. Wanted to feel anything but hollow about it. But what was the point? Overwatch was dead. Bringing it back only salted the wound. It didn't cure the infection that had caused it all to fall apart.

It had to be more than just what it seemed.

But seeing Ga—Reaper, like this. Seeing him where he was now. Seeing what he'd become. How long had his hands been dirty? Before they'd even met? Was Reaper really a loose canon when he didn't have a goal to chase? A sick feeling took hold in his guts, venomous thoughts clouding his memory. They'd fought together. Overwatch had been like family. Or... he'd thought so.

“No wonder you've aged so gracelessly.” Ana's voice snaps him back to present, having silently entered the safe house. Laying her rifle carefully across the desk near the doorway. “Brows furrowed with worry all the time. You're an old man now.” Her voice was a little wistful. Jack harrumphed in response. She'd turned her back to him now, filling herself a glass of water.

“What'd you find?”

“Not as much as I'd hoped. It's... not going to be easy to track him.” Ana's slight shoulders seemed to tense. The sink was off, glass of water awaiting her hand patiently from the counter top. Yet all she did was lean over the sink, one hand frozen on the tap. “I... He...”

“Ana...” Pushing his chair back to stand. It caught her attention and she finally grabbed her glass and joined him at the table. The hesitation in her movements forgotten. He eased back into his chair.

“You knew him well. What do you think he's after?” _Knew._ The word stung.

“Hmph. Grapevine says he was out to get the Overwatch agent list.” Her brows knotted as she took a sip of water. A pause in the conversation.

“Why? He knows every one of us.” Jack hated how right she was. There wasn't a face Reyes took for granted in their operation. He knew every single last one of them.

“Location maybe?” His voice sounded distant in his ears.

“Anyone the Overwatch database still has tabs on would be just as easy for him to find without the roster list.”

“So he's looking for someone they _d_ _idn_ _'t_ have tabs on.” He caught her eye. “He was trying to capture you.”

“He was. But he didn't know it was me behind the mask. Not until you showed up anyway.” Thoughtful silence fell between them.

“Maybe... you?” Ana suggested. “He said he'd been looking for you since...”

“Switzerland.” He finished for her. Something about her leaving an empty space there hurt more than him just bringing it out into the open. A ghost of emotion passed through her, fidgeting with the condensation on her glass. Fingertip leaving lazy patterns. Falling back into silence. Jack hated the ache. Knowing that Reaper even after all this time was trying to find him. To kill him. It'd been so long since he'd seen warmth in those eyes, he could hardly remember how it felt. Hell, he could hardly remember what a lot of things felt like anymore. The hope he'd carried proudly for so long felt like a withered and dusty plant. Abandoned in a hollow house. It's not like Jack was much better. He'd fallen a long way too. No more noble intent. Wearing all the motions Reaper had taught him long ago as if they were his own. Mimicking those silent footfalls, a shadow of something only Reyes could do the way he did. No matter how good of a ghost he'd made Jack, he was always better. Hell, he'd been looking for Jack long after Jack had stopped looking back. It'd been so long he assumed Gabriel Reyes had been sipping drinks in hell for a while. Turns out he was sipping drinks in their plane of existence while attempting to find Jack. All this time.

“He keeps tryin' to kill me like this, we might level a city eventually.” Jack's laugh seems hollow in his ears. Cynical and dry. Ana's face was unmoving. Her eye betraying the stoic face she'd put up. He'd always known her better than this. But he can't seem to find the words to make it better. She knew he was right.

“We have to stop him, Jack.”

“I know.” A calloused hand rubbed his chin. “Your ear is usually to the ground, any one of us you haven't heard from in a while?” She scoffed.

“Besides you, deadman? Oh don't give me that face.” Jack had scowled immediately. Trying not to let his mood turn sour. It was hard though, finding out all his grieving was misplaced. Finding that all he'd lost had been under his nose for so long. He knew he should be happy. In a way he was. He'd be happier when ghosts stopped showing up at his doorstep and he could get on with what he needed to do.

Ana was cupping her glass with both hands, eye on the ceiling thoughtfully. One thumb tapping gently on the glass. He watched the water ripple with the movement.

“I think the list is quite a bit shorter if you'd asked me who I've actually been able to keep tabs on.”

“That's not going to get us anywhere.” His eyes drifted back toward the device a few feet away. Wondering if Ana had seen her daughter at all in the time she'd been... well, dead. She seemed to notice his gaze.

“You should see Fareeha now.” Her voice was soft. “So strong, beautiful.”

“Takes after her mother.”

“Oh stop.” Ana's laugh was genuine, waving a hand at him quickly.

“What's she doing now, anyway?”

“Works for a private security firm. Helix International.” Jack nodded, thoughtful.

“She know about...” He hesitated. “The Overwatch recall?” Without really intending to, his voice grows quieter. As if someone could be listening. She sighs.

“No. It's safer for her if she doesn't find out.” His suspicions confirmed, she didn't seem keen on coming back either. Jack can't help wondering if anyone came back. Not after how it all ended. It seemed those who had believed in it the most, were the fastest to give up on Overwatch after it was all said and done. He took a pull from his glass to drown out the bitterness in his mouth.

They sat in silence for a while. The distant sounds of traffic a dozen floors below them. Dust motes dancing lazily through the air, catching light every once in a while. Jack struggling to not succumb to nostalgic memories. Bittersweet ones. Ignoring the wound of betrayal that had opened back up like an abyss in his gut. It didn't seem like Ana was faring that well against her own memories, a sad expression tinting her eye.

“Was he...” Jack musters, not able to meet her gaze. He could feel it on him like a hot coal.

“I don't know what happened to you in that base.” She spoke up, sparing him from asking the question he wasn't ready to voice. “I don't know how either of you lived after seeing the wreckage. I don't know that he really did. It's... it's bad, Jack.” He could remember hearing them talk as he lay on the ground, incapacitated by Reaper's punch directly to his wound. Rehashing the fist fight blow for blow. Like he was back on the mat with Reyes years and years and years past. Every hit was one he'd taken before, countered before. But they came at him without the intent to be blocked. They came at him like hellfire raining down to annihilate him. He remembered her shock, her words. Some of the only ones he'd been able to catch in their distant conversation. _What happened to you?_

“How was he able to do that...” She murmured, breaking him out of his far away thoughts. A queasy feeling in his gut as he remembered something he'd been trying to forget for years. Shallow breaths. The beep of medical equipment. The dark plumes of smoke. A light went off in his head.

“I know how to stop him.” Jack said suddenly, leaning forward on the table. “Or... at least how to start.” Ana's eye was intense on him. Steepling her fingers, elbows propped on the table. He slides his glass out of the way. A pang of a memory of the two of them doing this exact thing over a holo map, in a past that hardly felt like his anymore.

“We need to find Angela Ziegler.” He surmised. Watching her brow furrow. “It's... I thought—Reaper, had been dead for a long time. But, he didn't die in that explosion. We should have. Before we could... Ziegler found him.” Ana's brow furrowed further, expression suddenly unreadable.

“He was in her care for... I don't know how long. I stumbled into her lab later. I tried to escape before anyone arrived, I didn't know what to do. But after hiding for a few days I realized I was going to die if I didn't get help. And I needed to get it from someone I could trust. I just... I didn't know his body had ended up in her hands.”

“They said your body wasn't recovered, so I knew you'd gotten out somehow. But Gabriel... His body was released to an investigative coroner.” Jack didn't like the sound of his name on her tongue. He wanted to abandon every last memory of the humanity he'd had long ago. Wanted it to disappear in the annals of time. “I heard Ziegler's testimonial in the UN investigation on Overwatch after Swiss HQ fell. She didn't say a thing.” Jack nodded slowly.

“I told her not to.”

“Jack...” Ana's voice was mixed, like she might blow into a full lecture. Sad in the same moment.

“Ziegler was the one who pronounced him dead, you know that?” Her silence was answer enough for him. A prolonged space before he next spoke. “Who do you think preformed his 'autopsy'? Did you attend his funeral? Mine was turned into... some kind of...” Anger flared in his gut. Hands balled into tight fists. “National fucking event. No body to bury and my tombstone has had flowers on it every year since.”

“You were a hero.” She said softly, placing a hand over his fist. He didn't pull away. Didn't release his grip on his own palm either. Inhaled unsteadily.

“There is no grave for Gabriel Reyes. There was no funeral.”

“His family...?” Ana started, eye focused on him intently. A soft reassurance in her gaze. But an intensity. Absorbing, analyzing his every word. He just shrugged.

“I never knew them. I don't know what they were told.” Guilt tugged at his heart. He should have let them know. Let them know anything. “Public release said we'd both passed in the wreckage. They were never given a body to bury even though everyone knew only my body hadn't been recovered.”

“Speaking as a mother, I would hold a funeral even without a body or public approval.” She reassured him. Reading past all the bundled fury and into his core. He'd wanted to meet them, once. Jack couldn't begin to imagine what they'd been put through. What his own family had been put through. It was too late for reconciliation.

“Were they even told...?” He murmured.

“They had to have been. Public statements all declared him deceased. There's a grave for him somewhere.” Her words held an implication Jack had been caught on for a few minutes now. Gabriel Reyes was dead. Just not in the way they'd thought for all this time. But he _is_ dead. They sat in another gap of silence, her thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the flat of his fist. Jack finally hefting a sigh. Pushing the tension in his gut out with a shaky gust of air.

“Anyway... He was in Ziegler's care. She oversaw his recovery. If anyone has a clue how to stop him, how to capture him... It might be her. If nothing else she'll have a clue where to start.” There was a question in Ana's eye. Weighing the situation, debating how to ask. Jack hates how well she can see through him. See how the waves of his mind are crashing, thoughts and doubts raising hell in a furious hurricane.

“Was he... was he like this then? When you last saw him.”

“The smoke?” She nodded grimly. “Not as... intensely as now.” He wasn't ready to explain to her how he'd looked on that gurney. How Jack had left with the weight on his shoulders of knowing Gabriel Reyes wouldn't wake up again. No matter how much Angela Ziegler could try. No human being could recover from steadily disintegrating. _He shouldn't be alive. Neither of you should be._

“Well...” Ana patted his hand with finality. Egging him to finally release his fists. “It's the best lead we have. The only problem is, I don't know where she is. I haven't for a long time.” Jack nodded. Letting himself focus on their plan. Tamp down the storm of uncertainty. Wondering just how they could track her down, when another thought struck him.

“You said you were also pinged by the recall?” She nodded, a gleam in her eye that gave him the idea she knew where he was going with this. “Maybe... Athena?”

“She'd have to be in Gibraltar. Only 'active' base left, special exception.” She emphasized active with a quirk of her index fingers. Now that was a place he hadn't been back to in a while. He nodded slowly.

“Gibraltar then.”

 

\----------------------------

 

Getting to Gibraltar without being noticed was relatively easy. Jack had forgotten how much easier it was to operate with someone watching his six. Especially someone as talented as Ana. Between the two of them at this point, they had several decades of experience in going unseen. Untracked. A week's worth of careful travel brought them face to face with the cliffs that surrounded the Gibraltar watchpoint. Any of the buildings they could see on approach were dark. Warning signs on the chain link fences, on posted signs in the dirt. Crooked with time. In post of the Overwatch investigation, any former members were given ample warning to never partake in Overwatch activity again. They were promised certain degrees of protection from the angry public. The UN conveniently overlooked Winston's retreat to the otherwise empty base. On account of his shining record... and the fact that he was a gorilla no doubt. Housing a hero you could hide was one matter of security, but a gorilla? There wasn't any disguise or amount of paperwork that could cover up who he might have been.

“You think they have security on this place?” Jack whispered. He and Ana were kneeling behind some boulders, scoping out the approach. There was only a few entrances to Gibraltar. One, from the pier they'd sailed into, and then up the pave way to the security checkpoint. The second, from the air and onto the helipad, which was on the opposite end of the rocky island they'd built into.

“Considering he wants to bring Overwatch back, I think it's safe to assume he has something.” She murmured, eye flitting through the dark night. From this far away, it was impossible for his visor to pick up any specific heat readings. There was the faint glow of a small building deep within the campus. Not something that could be seen without entering the facility or having heat reading equipment. He couldn't pick up anything through the rock walls that some of the labs were hiding inside. Judging by the size and position of the one blip on his heat readings, he could only assume it was one of the smaller generator rooms scattered through the campus to distribute energy as needed.

“We should be very careful, there could be UN agents waiting for us instead. Capture any Overwatch members if they caught wind of Winston's message.” His gut turned at the thought. They'd gone this long without being found or apprehended. The last place he wanted to get caught was here, now.

“No helping it.” Jack finally stood. Ana didn't budge from her spot however.

“What, you want to just run right in?” Her scrutiny was blinding.

“No, I have an idea. Might not to be fun.” Ana's eye narrowed. “Hope you don't mind getting dirty.”

“With you, it's only an inevitability.”

She begrudgingly followed him past the docks. Clambering over a field of rocks before a small sandbar came into view around the corner. The ocean crashing against the cliffside nearby. He was flicking through settings in his visor, scanning the sands carefully. There were no heat readings coming from the sands, and he furrowed his brows. Wondering if they had closed the vent system. The majour parts of the compound were shut down, they wouldn't need large scale venting anymore. Regardless, it would be a huge undertaking to actually remove the maintenance ducts to the venting. There had to be something still here... Instead he looked to the rocks, flicking through settings to look for something specific. Ana sighed behind him, he could hear her shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Rifle adjusting in her palms.

_There._

A stray bullet mark in one of the sharp rocks rooted in the sand. Nearly washed away by years of spray and coastal storms. By that... He turned a sharp 180, stomping his feet dutifully on the ground.

“Jack...” Ana sounded impatient. His boot tamped down, a reverberation catching on the HUD of his visor.

“Found it.”

“Found _what_ exactly?” He had dropped to his knees, shoving the sand away mercilessly. Ana standing over him. Scanning the dark for prying eyes. After a moment of digging, a familiar hatch came into view. Painted a sandy colour, matte to reduce visibility. Jack grabbed ahold of the lock mechanism. The metal groaning with age. His muscles strained with effort, bracing his boots against the frame of the hatch. Gritting his teeth.

With a horrid screech, the hatch popped open. An abyssal dark greeting them. Jack didn't want to admit the relief that washed over him that the hatch opened. Unsettled by the creeping dark inside the familiar space.

“Usually pretty well lit...” He mumbled. “Guess they really cut the power.”

“What is this, Jack?” Ana was leaning over his shoulder. Her gaze was so intense, he almost wouldn't be surprised if the darkness coiled back from it to reveal the metal corridor inside.

“Maintenance hatch to the vents in the cliffside.”

“The big ones?” An acknowledging noise rumbled in his throat. Fishing for the miniature torch buried somewhere in his pockets. Upon retrieval, he clicked it on, letting it push back the darkness in the hatch. It was dusty inside, a pile of sand beneath the hatch door. Probably hadn't been used since everything had been shut down. Hell, it had hardly been used when Overwatch was in full swing. Jack swallowed roughly. He didn't want to remember right now. Dropping into the dark as if it would chase the memories away. Moving up so Ana could follow suit, and she took care to pull the hatch shut behind her.

“Bout a five minute walk up, it'll spit us out near the main generators.”

“I didn't even know this was here.” Ana said quietly. Something strange in her voice. Nostalgia? Jack shook his head slowly.

“No one did.” He shouldered forward, hoping she won't press him any further about it. Silence fell over the two of them. Their only company in their own echoed footsteps, metallic and uncomfortably loud in the dark. His torch as steady as he could keep it with the occasional support strut to duck underneath. Stepping carefully to avoid tripping. Jack hated how easily his body slipped into a memory his muscles never forgot. Every divot in the walkway remembered by his gait.

“I hate it here.” He growled. Hating the way his voice echos back at him. Drowning him.

“It is very cramped.” She agreed at his back. Jack didn't have the heart to confront how comfortable the familiarity was, how badly it stung. It only served to gnaw at scars he'd so willingly tried to forget for so long. Hoping this would be worth it. Hoping Winston could help them. Hoping they could really stop Reaper. His mouth felt dry.

_And... What then?_

“Jack...?” Ana's voice was quiet with concern. A featherlight touch on his tensed shoulder. He cleared his throat quickly, letting his muscles relax.

“We're almost there.” She didn't respond.

The maintenance hatch into the generator hall opened quite a bit easier and quieter than the first hatch, worn down by sand and seawater. Jack stuck his head out into the open first, cycling through his visor settings to ensure they were alone. It was eerily quiet and he could still see the heat of a building using power further down the compound. He hauled himself into the open before turning to offer Ana a palm. She took it, pulling herself up. Jack was careful to shut and secure the hatch as quietly as he could. From here, they were closer to the helipad than the pier. They would have to follow the main road through the compound toward the only building that showed any sign of life.

“This way.” He whispered, one hand reaching behind him to ensure his pulse rifle was still secured. “I'm getting a heat reading from one of the buildings closer to the labs.” She nodded in response, clicking her mask shut around her face. Jack made sure to check all directions from the shadow of the doorway before stepping out into the night air. The on site power plant was completely dark. Something he'd never seen in all the time spent here. They slunk through the shadows, staying close to the walls of the street that ran through watchpoint Gibraltar. Approaching the hangar in the middle of the compound, towers of equipment looming overhead.

The door to the side of the bay door was shut and he wasn't about to risk triggering an alarm by grabbing the door handle. With a hand gesture over the shoulder, he lead Ana around the side of another tower. The door leading to one of the storage bays was similarly closed, but the equipment walkway was wide open, up a flight of stairs to their left. Wind off the sea came up the cliff wall, sending a misting of sea water against his exposed skin. After a quick glance around from both him and Ana, they scaled the stairs and moved into the covered expanse of the hangar bay. Lifts were abandoned at their posts, a light covering of dust on everything. The jet that hung from the center of the room was covered by an incomprehensibly large tarp. He heard Ana let out a wistful noise at his back.

Jack hated the silence of his boots as they stalked through the hangar, following the equipment gangway around the walls. Checking every corner they passed. He hated the silence of the entire compound. Everything about being here made him cranky. Upon reaching the other side of the hangar he was greeted by the same sight. Foot traffic doors closed, equipment walkway open. He gave another cursory glare around the doorway before they exited. Following the walkway over the street, through another room full of tanks and maintenance equipment.

“The heat reading is ahead.” Jack whispered over one shoulder, seeing Ana nod out of the corner of his eye. Skirting down a flight of stairs and back out into the open. Ahead of them the road dipped under a large building that spanned both sides. To his left the heat reading was concentrated, and they carefully made their way up the ramp and around the corner. Into the open space of one of the many rooms built into the rock. He turned off the heat sensor so he could see their dark surroundings a bit better. The door to the space supplying power was closed. He pressed his back to the wall next to the door and Ana did the same on the other side. Pulling his pulse rifle free of his restraints. One hand reaching across the space of the door, hovering near the doorknob. Casting a careful glance around them. Scrutinizing every window pane. Every corner. He saw a silhouette in a window high above, from the hangar bay. Making a double take only to find he had imagined it. Cursing the fact that his heart had leapt into his throat.

“Jack?” Ana pushed, voice barely audible.

“Thought I saw something.” Murmured in response, he reached for the doorknob. Looking at Ana's blank mask across from him. She was tensed, ready to leap into the doorway when he pulls it open. His fingers grab the knob solidly for a moment, testing if it's locked. It turned in his palm. With his free hand, he held up three fingers. Dropping one at a time. Once his hand balls into a fist he threw the door open and Ana leapt into the space, rifle drawn. She moved into the dim hallway, Jack following suit. Covering her six, his pulse rifle tight against his shoulder. The door clicked shut behind them. A low, mechanical hum peppers the air. Light filtering from the room down the hallway. After rounding the corner, they found that the server room was completely empty. Some of the ceiling tiles missing, wires hanging down haphazardly. Everything seemed to function as it should, but the room was bare, as if it was midway through being dismantled. Ana followed the wall, sharply turning the corner into the equipment room attached to the server room. Exited a moment later, posture lax.

“If the server is receiving power still, then one of the labs has to be up and running. They wouldn't need the server up if they weren't in the labs. _Maybe_ a common area.” Jack mumbled, thumbing the chin area of his mask. Mostly out of habit.

“Winston wouldn't be residing in a common area.” She adds, her head tilting slightly. The server lights reflected in her mask. Jack inhaled slowly, thinking.

“He's gotta be in one of the labs built deeper in the rock, I didn't pick up any heat readings besides this one.” Shifted from one foot to the other. “And if he's living alone on this rock, why not just use the big one?”

“Bay windows, lots of space...” Ana nodded agreeably.

“It's a start.” They moved out of the server room and down the hall. Glaring out the window carefully before they rejoined the cool night air. A feeling came over him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Gaze snapping toward the window he thought he'd seen something in earlier. It was as empty as ever, dark yawning back at him. Even as they started moving down the pave way, his eyes lingered on the empty window. Rifle lax in his grip, pointed toward the ground.

There was a sound behind them.

Before he can turn, before he can bring his rifle flush to his shoulder, he heard the click of several hammers being drawn. Pistols maybe. No doubt trained at his back. Ana frozen in her tracks at his side. A voice pipped up from the abyss behind them.

“Freeze.”

 

\----------------------------

 

Jack watched. Rifle held loosely in his grip. Transfixed by the leaping flames. The way they sucked everything in. Making shadows dance on the walls of the buildings. Tiny little suns burning in the windows of storefronts, apartments. Car windows lit up as the upholstery burned. Distant wails of fire department trucks bounded down the streets. The freshest fire, the one he was watching, hadn't received their attention yet. He was just on duty to ensure no one wandered toward the blaze. They'd already caught the perpetrator who'd been throwing molotovs helter skelter in the aftermath of the riot. Which, had been contained before they arrived. Set to the task of catching all the dangerous outliers the police hadn't been able to apprehend. Not their usual shtick, but considering the topic that had started the riot in the first place was the Omnic Crisis, they had belief the riot could turn into a full blown battlefield. It wasn't always easy to predict where the Omnic forces were moving. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd hit a human riot.

A movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Seeing a cat down the alley, also eying the blaze. No doubt looking for the best route of passage past the madness. Away from the sirens that were slowly making their way here. Jack looked back toward one of the cars that was burning furiously, closest to the animal. Narrowing his eyes at what looked like a puddle on the ground.

His heart stopped. Eyes darting back toward the cat that was skirting the far wall. Eyes suspiciously on the burning vehicle. He'd seen this before.

Jack sprinted out toward the animal.

“Wh-Morrison!!” Gabriel's voice shouted at his back as he ran at the cat. Heart pumping. “Morrison what are you doing!?”

“Hey!” He let his voice bellow out. Hearing it echo across the buildings. Muffled by the roar of flames. The heat pulling sweat to the surface of his skin. Leaping over a pile of something abandoned, flames rendering it indistinguishable. “HEY!” The cat started, seeing him running toward it full force. It turned on a dime, skittering back toward the sirens. Gabriel's voice was resounding at his back. Jack couldn't understand a word over the roar. His boots skidding on the asphalt, grinding himself to a stop. Eyes darting back to the car, the puddle underneath. The flame that finally reached close enough to ignite it. Inhaling sharply. Pulling the rifle close to his chest. Turning a shoulder to the blaze, his heart hammering in his eardrums. It was all he could hear for the moment of calm his brain registered. Adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The gas tank exploded. Sending shards of metal flying in all directions. A rush of heat and flame snarling outward, singeing everything in sight. The blow back throwing things into the air. His brain seemed to be absorbing it at a thousand miles an hour, watching as something a few feet away was launched into the air. Exhale.

Jack hit the ground several yards away. Hard. Sent flying down the alleyway toward another bundle of fires. The world went to pitch black. Complete and total silence. Emptiness.

A slight ringing started in his ears. His mind stirring out of a slumber. Hazy and muddled. A jerky movement. He could feel himself being dragged unceremoniously across an uneven surface as his mind struggled with consciousness. The ringing was getting louder. He was becoming aware of how hot his body was starting to feel, muffled shouting started to push past the drone of ringing in his ears. Pain seeping into his bones. Jack groaned.

The voice got louder. Insistent. Barking in his ears.

“--orris...” The pain was amplifying, a distant roar working its way into the din. “--ari!... Gh...”

He wanted to curl into a ball, escape the deafening noise in his head. Ignore the pain that was mounting by the moment. His entire body felt hot, ached. A sharp pain digging in the back of his skull. Moving through his head, into his eyeballs. Into his teeth. Throat burning with every breath. The ringing was almost too much to bear, unaided by how loud everything else seemed to be. How far away familiar sounds of life were. _Where..._

…--ac...” A cough pulled at his chest. “Jack!!”

With a gasp, he rushed back to consciousness. The pain in his head multiplied the second he opened his eyes. Sending his vision blurry, eyes rolling around for some kind of purchase on what he was looking at. Ears ringing still. Muffling the sound of everything else around him. Confusion ran hot in his veins. A blurry face pushed into his line of sight and Jack tried to focus on it. Make it come into view. A familiar expression starting to come into clarity. Worry etched into his knotted brows.

“What...?” He tried to look around, the ache in his entire body telling him to stay put. Becoming increasingly aware of a set of hands gripping his upper arms. Gabriel's form was rimmed by a flickering orange light. Backdrop of a dark sky, buildings looming high overhead starting to come into focus.

“What the fuck were you thinking!” Gabriel demanded, his fingertips tightening on Jack's biceps. He squinted, trying to recall how he'd gotten here. There'd been a riot... and then...

“There...” His throat was hoarse, and attempting to clear it didn't aid him at all. Voice scratchy. “There was a cat. I saw some gas on the ground... Next to the engine.”

“You leapt into an explosion to save a cat.” It wasn't a question. Gabriel's face was unreadable. The expression familiar, with his lips and eyebrows set straight with impassiveness. But the look in his eyes was completely different. Something Jack couldn't put a fingertip on.

“... Yeah.” He couldn't help but smile crookedly.

“Don't--” His voice was severe, but a relieved laugh ghosted past his lips. So small, Jack almost didn't hear it. “Do that again. Ever.”

“Is that an order...?” Jack pushed. Feeling Gabriel's fingers relax minutely against him. Still gripping him firmly.

“If you're not careful with this hero bullshit I'm gonna put you on house arrest.” Neither of them could take what Gabriel said seriously, the both of them laughing softly. Jack's eyes pinched shut in his laugh. It burned his throat, but he' was too relieved to stifle it. Opening his eyes to look Gabriel in the eyes again. His face taking up most of his vision. Flames sending shadows dancing over his features. Stern as always... There's something in Gabriel's eyes he doesn't recognize. He wanted to reach up and brush a palm against his cheek, reassure him that everything was fine. Despite how achy he felt, he was alive, here. Swallowing thickly.

He clutched a fist at his side. Burying the feeling.

Ana's voice yanked both of their attentions away. Calling out as she ran closer, footsteps echoing in the street. Jack savours the feeling of Gabriel's thumb absently stroking his upper arm. Wanting to close his eyes and go to sleep here.

“Jack!” He jolts awake suddenly. “Idiot, what did I just say.” Gabriel's face is tilted on concern again. There's a woosh of air as Ana kneels at his side.

“Uh... I don't remember.” He admits.

“Probably a concussion. We should get him to the tent to dress whatever wounds he's gotten.” Ana murmurs to Reyes gently. “Can you walk, Jack?” She turned to him now.

“I think so.”

“Help him.” She spoke firmly to Gabriel, who nodded in response.

“Yeah.”

Ana stood upright, and he found himself following her movements. Standing over his legs and extending her arms toward him. He gripped her palms and let her help him to his feet. Looking down to see Gabriel shift out of a seated position and to his feet. Debris in his lap. A pang of realization hit him at how soft the ground beneath his head had felt. It hadn't been the ground at all. Before he could fully absorb the thought, Gabriel ducked underneath his shoulder. A warm arm around his waist. Carrying half of his weight as they picked their way back to the medical tent. He vaguely caught Gabriel issuing a soft order to someone to go watch the alley they'd just come from. Jack had to focus on every step to stay upright. Sirens growing louder behind him, making his head throb. Eventually they made it to the medical tent, where Gabriel gently helped him into a cot to be fussed over by Ana and a field tech. He didn't want to break contact, staring past Ana's shoulder and into Gabriel's face. Someone grabbed the commander's attention, turning him away. A feeling ghosted through Jack, unwilling to let go of Gabriel's gaze yet. He turned to the ceiling of the tent and let his mind slip into his own thoughts.

Gabriel's lap.

He swallowed roughly, ignoring the way he was being prodded at. Caught on the way his cheek had looked. The worry in his eyes. Jack wondered for a moment if he should have just reached up and touched him. Biting the inside of his lip softly. He wanted to be ashamed. Guilty in the way he'd basked in Gabriel's concern. The way he'd held onto Jack for dear life.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably add tags/character tags as things go on, as they become relevant. I think? As usual, I'll probably up the rating in like 6 chapters knowing me
> 
> Big thank yous to octonaut and grossly for the beta and support and love and callouting involved in me starting this bullshit
> 
> note on the server room, it's gibraltar's unused spawn point: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=liEmQANyfew


	2. Chapter 2

“Freeze.” Jack nearly sighed in exasperation. “Weapons on the ground, hands where I can see 'em please.” _Shoulda known._ The voice was very serious despite the light tone it was carried in. He could feel Ana stiff at his side, the safety on their weapons collectively being flicked on. The two of them started lowering their guns to the ground slowly, hands taking vigil behind their skulls in tandem. A universal sign of cooperation. Neither he or Ana said a word. Their captor muttering something into a communicator.

“It's Soldier 76...” He overheard her whisper. A slight smile tickling his lips behind his mask. After a gap of silence, when she was presumably receiving orders on how to deal with the two of them, she spoke up again. Her footsteps nearly silent on the ground as she centered herself from their flank.

“Turn around slowly, hands where they're at if you would.” Even though he couldn't see her face behind the mask, he could feel Ana's gaze on him for a moment. The woman before them was unfaltering, pistols at the ready for the second either of them tried something. Jack wouldn't dare, he knew she could catch him in an instant. At close range, long ago, there was no contest. He wasn't about to assume what Tracer had been doing all this time, but given her stature and the experienced gleam in her eye, he knew she could still go toe to toe with him. He just hoped she was here with Overwatch, not some scheme to catch old agents. Lena had a strong moral compass and was especially observant. But he knew just as well now, how deep corruption ran. What might seem like a morally sound offer from the UN or otherwise could be anything but. He couldn't trust her until he saw all the cards on the table.

A stint of silence prevailed. The three of them trapped in some kind of standoff in the dark of Gibraltar's night. Jack shifted uneasily from leg to leg, feeling the ache of travel in his knees. Lena didn't say a word, eyes trained on him stiffly until he stopped swaying his weight from side to side. Her gaze boring right through him. Ironic, he knew. She was reading a thousand things off his body language, off of Ana's body language, unknowing who either of them were. Not that he could blame her, with his shock of white hair, the bold scar running across his brow from beneath his mask. There were only a few people who knew him well enough, long enough, to immediately recognize him now.

Heavy footsteps were clattering toward them. Another familiar face rounding the corner in a hurry, Torbjörn approaching with his usual wide set gait. A strange ache passed through Jack at the sight. Weapon raised toward them, heat warping the air around it.

“Those our intruders, huh?” He called, trotting toward them. Lena nodded swiftly. Not even taking a moment to tear her gaze from the two of them. Suspicion tilting her features toward the stern. An expression, Jack found strangely humorous on her face. Even in some of their most serious missions, Lena always carried an infectious positivity, the beginnings of a smile always teasing her lips.

Torbjörn had made it to her side by now, surveying the situation. His eye drifting meticulously over the two of them. Head to toe, taking in every detail that could serve him some kind of information on their intruders. Jack was starting to wonder if he had brought handcuffs or if they were just going to stand there holding them at gunpoint all night. This had to go one way or another, and he had a hard time believing he and Ana should out themselves. Two dead people.

“Where did you get that?” It was barely more than a whisper. His eye burning with fury, posture stiff. “I said, _where did you get that_!?” Bellowing at them, his claw pointed toward Ana's rifle on the ground as if it might spring up and take a bite out of him. She was moving her hands forward slowly, fingertips brushing the edge of her hood. Jack had his head turned toward her slightly, watching her slowly place her fingers over the latches to her mask. He wanted to issue some sort of warning to her without drawing unwanted attention.

“I am sorry to have borrowed your things, old friend. I know how it haunts you.” She murmured softly, letting her mask pop out of it's place and slide back into her hood. Torbjörn's face paled considerably. Disbelief tangling his expression. Lena's jaw had also gone slack, the aim of her pistols drifting toward the ground. Jack took the opportunity to slowly lower his hands to his side, ease the stiffness out of his shoulders.

“Ana...? How?” The inventor finally spoke, bewitched by the impossibility of her standing before them. With their guard dropped, she took several strides forward to kneel down before Torbjörn. A mirror of the same kneel Jack had seen a thousand times during recon. Embracing their old friend tightly. Jack's chest constricted, watching a few rogue tears fall into Torbjörn's bushy facial hair.

“I hope you can forgive me for keeping such a horrible secret.” He barely overheard the words. Ana stood, leaving Torbjörn to hastily wipe his cheek and nose with the inside of his elbow. Lena holstered her pistols quickly to meet Ana's embrace. Her face split by a smile that was torn with joy and grief all at once. Ana's hand rubbing reassuring circles between the younger woman's shoulder blades, in the way only a mother could. Jack almost felt a little awkward watching like an outsider, a ghost family member watching from beyond the veil of death. Only a half step from being able to step into their world. He couldn't.

“You look wonderful, Lena.” Ana had a palm on each of Tracer's upper arms, watching the young woman bask in Ana's pride. Tears glittering in her eyes, on her lower eyelid.

“What'n fresh hell happened to you?” Torbjörn stepped in.

“A long story I promise to tell, but for now I'm afraid I've come here on business.” Jack watched as both Tracer and Torbjörn's shoulders fell in disappointment. Realization dawning on the two.

“You're not here for...” Lena started, receiving a gentle pat on the shoulder, silencing her.

“All things in time. Now, could you take us to Winston?” Jack felt his spine stiffen slightly. _Us_. Attention being drawn back onto him after all this time watching from the outside of the conversation. Distrust sparking in Torbjörn's eye as he spoke up loudly.

“Not 'til you explain why you're draggin' this one along.” Ana's gaze pierced through him. Past his mask, past his facade. He shook his head minutely in response. A sad expression passed through her eye.

“We're on Reaper's tail, 76 has a lead we could follow to capture him. But we'll need Winston's help.” The mention of Reaper's name brought a wave of seriousness over the conversation. Tracer shifting uncomfortably in her stance, a distrusting glance thrown Jack's way.

“Yeah? What kinda help.” Torbjörn was looking more and more stubborn by the second. A three foot wall of 'not on your life'. Jack wanted to laugh at how little the man had changed.

“Heard you could track former agents. Straight down to the dead ones.” Jack spoke, letting his voice drop in pitch more than usual. Hoping that age and tone would mask who he was. Torbjörn's expression darkened considerably.

“And where'd you hear somethin' like that exactly.”

“Torbjörn, I got the call. Of course he knows.” Ana was reassuring the shorter man, casting a threatening look in Jack's direction. He knew she wanted him to come clean. Handle this with care. He wasn't sure he could. The statement did chill Torbjörn's temper though, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Think the question's more along the lines of why you're sneakin' in here with a known vigilante.” Lena's brows were pinched beneath her huge goggles. “You could have just called, we'd have let you in.”

“I doubt you'd have let a ghost in the front door.” The older woman scoffed.

“Okay, maybe. But...” Lena's eyes wandered toward Jack, who was now grabbing his pulse rifle off the ground. Dusting it off with the back of a gloved hand. He was starting to feel impatient, remembering that Reaper was out there running rampant. Guilt sinking in his chest. He had to be the one to stop him.

“You want answers, kid?” Jack rumbled. “Bring us to Winston and I'll give you answers. I don't have all night to argue about this.” They all stood in silence for a moment. Prolonged while Jack wrestled with the growing maw of impatience in his gut.

“Fine, but yer leavin' that gun with me.” Torbjörn finally spoke, holstering his weapon to free up a hand. Reaching out for Jack's trust. Trust he wasn't ready to give, even to an old friend. Not with what he'd seen. But they had to get to Athena. Jack might be one of the only people willing to go after Reaper. He had the means, he had the drive. He just needed the knowledge to capture smoke with his bare hands. Begrudgingly, he pushed the pulse rifle into Torbjörn's palm, brushing past him stubbornly.

“Let's get going already.” He growled. Lena stepped in front of him in a flash of blue light, tossing him a look over her shoulder before leading the way. Jack hated having to pretend like he hadn't a clue where they were going. Sure, he didn't know where they were holed up on the base exactly, but it wouldn't have taken him long to find out. Not many people knew Overwatch's many bases like Jack Morrison had. Ana and Torbjörn were talking softly at his back, a conversation he didn't care enough to eavesdrop into, his thoughts preoccupied. Knowing he had to stop Gabriel Reyes. Knowing he had to still get to the bottom of what had happened to this place. He glared at one of the Petras Act signs erected on the side of the road as they passed by it. Remembering an adage he'd heard long ago about time and villainy. This, along with the rest of Overwatch, used to be his home. Gabriel Reyes used to be his home. The ache turned into a burning anger as they entered the largest of the labs buried in the rock. It's occupancy betrayed by the dim light pouring out of the large bay windows on the second floor.

Tracer opened the door with a swipe of her hand, some hidden tech in the door popping open for her before she disappeared in a flash of light. Torbjörn grumbled something, ushering them inside so the door could lock behind them. Ana picking up their conversation once more as they meandered up the hallway and into the main area of the lab. Jack could hear Lena's voice, fast with her usual energy. Just far enough away that he couldn't pick up a single word that left her lips. Once they were out of the short hallway into the rock, Jack cast an appraising gaze around the space. He'd been in this lab quite a bit back in it's days of functional use. Now, it was thoroughly lived in. Something about it seemed comfortable and fitting, starting up a nostalgic ache in his chest. High above, he could see Lena behind the glass of the upper balcony, talking animatedly. The looming shape of Winston pushing up his glasses. A worried look in his face that Jack recognized from years ago. As if he felt Jack's stare, the gorilla turned slightly. Eyes sticking to Jack only for a moment before they landed on Ana. His conversation with Lena abandoned instantly as he trundled his way out of the balcony, grabbing onto a rope to lower himself to the ground. Ana took a few swift steps in the gorilla's direction before being enveloped in a crushing hug.

“Ana! I saw you pop up on the recall, I thought it had to have been a glitch. How is this possible?” He set her down gently, the older woman taking a deep breath to refill her lungs, looking a bit frazzled but overjoyed.

“I'm sorry I never told you, Winston. It's a long story.” Winston nodded, sort of sage like. A sparkle of thought in his eyes after a moment.

“You... were not the only glitch we had during the recall.” He murmured. Jack watched Ana shift in her posture subtly. “There can't be...” Winston's gaze turned toward Jack, boring straight through him. Jack had to remind himself not to stiffen or swallow nervously. A small voice in the back of his head asking _Why not just tell them?_ They were family.

Were.

Ana set a reassuring hand on Winston's fuzzy wrist, drawing his attention away from 76.

“I hate to be so abrupt, but we need your help. Is there somewhere we can talk...?”

“Whatever ya got to tell him, you can tell all ov'us.” Torbjörn interjected sternly. Jack turned slightly, finding the dwarf's gaze sharp on him before having even turned about. Suspicion hot in his eye as he ran his eyes all over Soldier 76. If he didn't know better, he would have thought Torbjörn was onto him. Maybe he was. Lena had made her way down the stairs by now, opting to not to overuse the chronal accelerator. Something, Jack clearly remembered Winston warning her about.

“You did promise us answers, Soldier 76.” She said brightly, more of her usual self. Every gaze in the room had turned on him by now and Jack felt hot under the collar, the impatience in his gut starting to burn once more. He cleared his throat into the flat of his gloved fist. Crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. Ana's eye sharp on him.

“I need to get in contact with Angela Ziegler.” He grumbled.

“You wanna find one of our best agents, because yer after a terrorist. Who's out to kill ALL the Overwatch agents.” Torbjörn made a wide gesture, glaring at Soldier 76. He glared back, despite that his old friend couldn't see past the visor. Jack was beginning to understand how much of a thorn in the side Torbjörn could be when he wasn't _on_ your side.

“We don't _really_ know what he's after.” Winston said quickly. “But, why Angela?”

“She's the only one who might have a clue how to capture him.”

“Why?” Winston inquired, taking a step toward Jack.

“Maybe you're able to figure out how to catch him?” Tracer asked Winston now, who shook his large head slowly.

“I don't understand the first thing about what his abilities are. All I know is he was vaporized when exposed to a large electrical current. I thought it killed him until he showed up again later. It's not a permanent fix to the problem.” Jack's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the idea that Winston had unknowingly _vaporized_ what used to be their mutual friend. Twisted at the idea that Reaper had not only been completely annihilated, but put himself back together with ease. He knew that Gibraltar had been attacked by the wraith but he hadn't heard that Winston thought him dead. Only that he'd been pushed off the premises only to appear again to cause trouble elsewhere.

“Why in the hell would Angela know then.” Torbjörn griped. Jack was suddenly aware that it was going to be much harder to talk themselves into Winston's help without giving more away than he wanted to.

“Got reason to believe he was in her care for a bit.” He decided to tell the truth and omit as many details as he could. It would be more believable that way. Probably. “Was injured and happened to fall underneath her wing. Probably the only doctor who would take care of him.”

“Why would Angela not tell us there was a _terrorist_ in her care...?” Tracer's voice was heavy with skepticism. Jack could almost hear his own words in his ears from long long ago. He just opted to shrug in response.

“That's why we were hoping to find her. Dead end or no, it is a better lead than we've had before.” Ana chimed in finally, letting her scrutiny fall off of Jack. A soft look in Winston's direction instead. The gorilla seemed to be considering it heavily, sending a wayward glance toward Soldier 76.

“I don't know... I trust _you_ but...”

“Last time someone burst in here lookin' for Overwatch members, it was pretty ugly.” Lena said for him, the stern look returning to her face. Winston nodded slowly and Jack found himself faced with the gaze of everyone in the room once more. For the first time since they'd entered this conversation, Ana's eyes on him were soft. A look of pity in her features that he withered beneath. He shifted uncomfortably.

“You...” He started, mouth dry. “Aren't gonna like the answer you're asking for from me.”

“But you did say you'd give us answers.” Lena offered, extending that familiar sweetness to him. A friendly face in a storm. Jack looked around carefully. For prying eyes, for an excuse not to bend.

“You got security cameras in here?” Winston nodded. “That ain't gonna work for me then, sorry.” Jack said firmly, tightening his grip on his upper arms. Torbjörn snorted.

“The hell have you got to hide?”

“Torbjörn...” Ana warned, the hood obscuring most of her skull casting shadows over her face. “I also would prefer not to be caught on camera. A detail I hadn't considered until our _friend_ brought it up.” A grateful feeling passed through Jack at her insistence on referring to him as an ally.

“Athena, could you disable and purge surveillance of the room please?” Winston said, directing his voice vaguely upward.

“If you insist, Winston.” The AI responded, and Jack saw a few lights around the room blink out. Ana murmuring a quiet thank you to the gorilla, who nodded in response. Without another excuse to keep secrets, everyone's attention drifted back toward Jack.

“Just, keep your traps shut.” He growled, reaching a gloved hand up to palm his mask. Finger and thumb hitting the release for his faceplate. A moment passed that felt like years, hesitating with his fingers ready to expose his face. He hated that once he had trusted this organization so dearly. Hated that he trusted these people with every scrap of his being and had to hide from them. There had been more to Overwatch than it seemed, a beast of teeth and shadows lurking beneath the surface. It had been years and Jack had no idea if the corruption still pumped in the veins of Overwatch's cadaver. Especially now that they were attempting to re-recruit old members, reanimating something that still belonged six feet in the dirt. With a deep breath, he pulled his mask away from his face.

The light of the room looked particularly blue in comparison to the red tinge his visor gave the world. A permanent filter of blood, despite it's best attempts at colour correction while he wore it. He prepared himself for the worst. Watching recognition strike Lena's face. A palm whisking up to her lips. A hasty curse from Torbjörn.

“It wasn't a glitch.” Winston's voice was a whisper. Lena had crossed the gap between them in a flash of blue light. Her arms thrown around his neck. Shoulders shaking slightly, her fingers gripped tight against the slick leather of his jacket. Nails catching on the thick seams.

“Why didn't you say something!” Her voice was heavy with emotion. Jack's movement was hesitant, suddenly unsure if he had the right to embrace her back. For the first time in years he felt the true weight of guilt for having left his family behind. Those who looked to him for leadership. As he finally returned her embrace, squeezing her tight with his empty hand, he could see Reaper's mask in his mind's eye. Smoke curling out from beneath the hood. His fingers tightened on the rim of his mask in his other hand.

Lena broke away and Torbjörn took the space to walk up and land a heavy punch to Jack's thigh. He nearly buckled, nerves shouting in protest all the way to his toes. Before he could react, the dwarf grabbed his free hand, yanking him to his knee. Pulling him into a tight hug. Jack's thigh was still tingling from the punch that nearly put his leg to sleep.

“Sorry.” Was all he could muster. The side of his face being tickled by Torbjörn's overgrown beard. After a moment the dwarf pushed away, turning from the group as if there was something incredibly interesting on the far wall. Rubbing his face with the inside of his elbow again. Jack left him be, and stood to meet Winston's embrace in turn. Like a sick mirror of a regular get together, hugs and loving greetings being tossed around. It was bitter on Jack's tongue as Winston squeezed all the air out of his lungs.

“You two are fuckin' assholes.” Torbjörn finally managed, drawing a laugh out of the rest of the room. The brief stint of relief brought by laughter was drowned almost immediately by the hovering tension that still presided in the air. Winston's eyes heavy with thought.

“Wait. Wait wait, Winston how many glitches _were_ there?” Tracer took a step toward Winston, and Jack clicked his mask back into place. Eyes readjusting to the overtly red tint of his world. He made an active attempt to not hold his breath, wondering if Gabriel Reyes had also appeared in the recall.

“Only two.” Winston confirmed. “Who are now, accounted for.” Jack and Ana made swift eye contact, a knowing look passing between them. Her brows were knotted with a question that Jack shared and neither of them could voice. He cleared his throat to knock the both of them out of their musing.

“Hate to break up this reunion, but we do really need to find Angela.”

“Right, of course.” Winston surrendered, his bright eyes full of trust that Jack didn't deserve. It made him wilt slightly inside, and he fought to keep his chin high and his shoulders back with pride he didn't feel. It almost felt better when they didn't trust him. With a gesture, Winston lead them up the staircase. Lena and Torbjörn remaining behind to put away their gear. The balcony office was lived in, it's huge bay windows filtering moonlight into the warm space. Winston sunk into the seat that was an impressively large tire from of a construction vehicle. A fossil of an age bygone. Jack could relate.

“Athena, could you locate Angela Ziegler for me?” Athena acknowledged, a map popping up on Winston's screen. A thumbnail image of Angela's face hovering over the middle east.

“So, you can just locate any Overwatch agents at _any_ time...?” Jack scrutinized the screen, a thousand and one laws Winston was breaking marching through his mind.

“Well, no.” Winston admitted. “Recall was an emergency program set up to find all Overwatch agents and send out a message. It was single use, I can only locate agents now if they chose to opt into recall.”

“Break all the laws at once, but only do it once.” Jack said, a little more gruffly than intended. Turns out no one these days were keeping their hands clean. Winston nodded in acknowledgment.

“If Angela agreed, why isn't she here?” Ana spoke up, leaning toward the map, her hands on her hips.

“Well, she didn't, actually.” Winston sighed. “She told me Overwatch had no business being put back together. But she also offered to have an open line in case of emergency.” A grim silence fell over the three of them. Jack wasn't about to admit to Winston how much he earnestly agreed with Ziegler. He knew without looking that Ana was stewing in the same thoughts.

“Could you send her a message, get her to come back? Meet us somewhere?” Winston nodded, pressing a few buttons. Silence prevailing as Athena attempted to connect to Angela's communicator. The wait felt absurdly long, a buzzing indicating that she had yet to pick up the call. Jack's stomach was grinding uncomfortably in his abdomen,

“Hello Winston, what can I do for you?” The familiar voice finally answered. She sounded tired. Winston hit another button, pulling their faces into view in a small window at the corner of the screen. After a moment Angela's face appeared as well. A dimly lit tent wall was in the background, field equipment organized carefully on some fold up tables nearby.

“Soldier 76.” Angela sighed, her eyes drifting to the third person in the room. Brows knotting with concentration, Jack could hear her inhale sharply. “ _Ana_?”

“Hello, Angela.”

“This must be important, to bring the dead back to life.” Ziegler said tiredly. A fond and sad look peppering her eyes as she looked over Ana's cloaked frame. “Let me guess—” Before she could finish the thought, Jack interrupted her.

“Heard a rumour that you might have a clue how to apprehend Reaper. We're on his tail.” The words died on Angela's tongue as he spoke. Jack noticed the distant look in her eyes.

“I see.” Her eyes flicked away from Ana, probably toward Winston. It was hard to tell. “I may have something, but I cannot be sure it will still work.”

“Was he really in your care?” Winston finally breached the elephant in the room. Jack felt a twist of guilt at the fact that his old friend was the only person kept in the dark during this call. Reaper's broken frame abandoned on a gurney played across his thoughts. Winston was better off not knowing. Jack gave a threatening look toward the screen, knowing Angela couldn't see it behind his mask, but hoping she knew to keep the secret just a bit longer. She sighed.

“Yes, for a time.”

“Why didn't you tell us? Or apprehend him?” Winston's voice was tinted with disbelief.

“It was... before he became a threat.” Angela ran a hand through her messy hair. “I did not think he would become...” Her voice petered off, leaving Jack with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest he couldn't describe. Suddenly wondering why she hadn't told _him_. Maybe he had been a little too good at hiding himself all this time. Thoughtful silence fell over the group once more.

“I uh, have a private lab in Switzerland I still own. I believe I have a device there that can aid you.” Angela finally spoke up.

“Send Winston the coordinates, we'll meet you there.” Ana said, placing a hand on Winston's fuzzy head. Fingertips working through the coarse hair lovingly.

“Of course.” Ziegler's voice was soft, a strange look passing through her eyes before the connection was cut. Moments later a set of coordinates and an address popped up on Winston's screen. Ana copied them into her communicator. Winston was shifting in his seat, deep in thought. Jack knew that look. A thousand questions bubbling underneath the surface of Winston's exterior. He spoke, settling to voice one out of the million he probably had.

“Where are you going to take him?” Jack looked at Ana, stock still, arms crossed over his chest.

“Hadn't thought of that yet. Guess it depends on what exactly Angela has to restrain Reaper.” He pawed at an itch on the side of his neck before continuing. “And, where we can manage to capture him.”

“Well, we still have functional interrogation chambers if the need arises.” Winston had that knowing look in his eye and Jack understood immediately that the gorilla knew he was hiding something. He gave his old friend a slight dip of the head, hopefully sating Winston's burning curiosity. It appeared to work well enough, as he turned away from Jack and Ana, settling back into his tire seat.

“Understood. And, thanks.” Jack watched the way Winston shifted in his seat, staring at the slowly rotating globe on his screen.-

“Just... be careful.” He murmured.

 

\----------------------------

 

The sounds of the diner enveloped Jack in a hazy bubble. Soft voices, the sound of a jukebox around the corner, the evening heat pressing on the windows. Sunset blazing down the streets. He fidgeted with his watch, his other hand slowly turning his glass in circles on the counter top. _He's late..._ Jack mused, taking a sip of his water hastily after a waitress gave him a passing glance. No doubt wondering if he was ever going to order anything after sitting at the bar for 20 minutes. He probably should have shown up 5 minutes early, not fifteen. _Maybe he's lost?_ Even more unlikely. As new as they were to the area, the neighboring town to the base was miniscule. Gabriel was from Los fucking Angeles. Jack wanted to slap himself for being so nervous about Gabriel showing up. All he'd told him was that they needed to do some requisitions shopping for their first day in the government sanctioned building for their pet project. Get ready before they would start having to ship out at random to take part in the fights rampaging across the country, and the world by extension. Of course, this would be true, except that he had personally worked with the requisitions officer to make sure they were fully prepared. Gabriel had enough paperwork to worry about, he'd happily resigned some of the duties for stocking and preparing the base to the other members of the team. _Meet me at the diner in the middle of town._

 

_“Can't we just have some of this stuff picked up for us...?” Gabriel asked, looking up from some of the paperwork cluttering the makeshift desk. Grey circles hovering underneath his eyes. Jack shook his head firmly._

_“We're packed in, you know we're some of the only staff in this place. Had to focus efforts on stuff we wouldn't be able to buy in the neighboring town.” Watching as Gabriel huffed in acceptance before turning back to the paperwork with a frown._

_“Fine. Eighteen hundred?”_

_“Works for me.”_

 

Jack took another sip from the glass, a few pieces of the half melted bits of ice slipping past his lips and into his mouth. He crunched on them absentmindedly as he glared down at the holo menu glowing in the counter top. He got sucked into the various options of milkshake flavour the diner was sporting, the day's heat pushing a craving for ice cream into his mouth. Bitterly thinking of Gabriel's rampant sweet tooth as his eyes hesitated over the watermelon option.

A body sunk into the stool next to him with a sigh, startling him out of his stupor.

“Thought you said to meet you outside.” Gabriel mutters, following up with a soft request for water to the passing waitress.

“Oh. It was hot outside.” Jack lied, relief seeping through him. “Sorry about that.” Feeling foolish at his own nerves. Seeing Gabriel swamped with all the work of being in charge of their strike team had been sort of difficult. It was something that Gabriel was obviously familiar to, but Jack still hated to see it. Would rather be working at his side, where their team work was second to none. He couldn't team work through the logistical shit Gabriel was now responsible for as their leader. The best he could do was wait for it to be set aside, wait for orders. Wait for down time.

Or... find ways to enforce downtime.

The waitress swung by, placing a glass of water on the counter top that Gabriel hastily thanked her for before downing a third of the glass at once. He watched the way the condensation wet Gabe's fingertips, the way his adam's apple bobbed. Eyes closed in a moment of bliss from the cold drink. A refreshed sigh bursting free of his lips as he placed the glass down on the countertop. The orange light of sunset coming through the windows, catching on his lashes. Reverberating in his irises.

“So, where to?” Gabriel's dark eyes turned on him. Fierce and sparkling with interest. Jack felt the words die on his tongue. He could smell a cologne on Gabe's skin. Something Jack didn't know he had, he'd never worn it before. Jack didn't even _own_ cologne. If they weren't in combat, they were training in base. It was just a waste to wear cologne on downtime if all he was going to do was inevitably end up working out at some point.

“Uh.” Jack's eyebrows lifted, a shy smile pulling at his lips. “Nowhere. Actually.” There was a long moment of Gabriel's eyes boring into him. His face as stoic as ever.

“The requisitions...?”

“In the menu.” Gabe's eyes narrowed, his face turning slightly toward the menu without breaking eye contact. Staring into Jack's soul from the corner of his eyes, beneath a fan of lashes. He blinked as his eyes finally flicked toward the holo menu and Jack released a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

“Do they not have a grocery store in this town...?” Jack started laughing immediately, one hand gripping Gabriel's shoulder, hard, as if to anchor himself to this world. Shaking his friend roughly in his peals of laughter.

“I'm buying you dinner you idiot.” He finally managed, tears pricking his eyes from his fit of laughter. “My congrats on your promotion.” Fingers still tight on the fabric of Gabriel's shirt, fingertips digging into his deltoid. There's a flicker of a smile starting in Gabe's face, eyebrows crinkling with thought. Lips crookedly showing a peek of teeth. Disbelief in his eyes.

“You lied about requisitions to your superior officer?” Gabe reaffirmed, turning his torso toward Jack. For a second Jack almost took him seriously, ready to heel to Gabriel Reyes' command. Brought back down to earth by the humoured sparkle in Gabriel's eye. The same one Jack always saw when someone caught him by surprise, told him a joke he hadn't heard before.

“Don't forget, the rest of the team.” It was Gabriel's turn to laugh, eyes pinching shut. Nose and brows crinkling.

“Boyscout, you are _not_.” Gabriel gave him a playful shove, turning toward the menu with a gentle look on his features. Jack watched all of the tension leave Commander Reyes to reveal the friend he'd been missing all week, exposed in this tiny diner. It made something in his chest feel as though it was going to burst out, flopping and gasping on the counter top. Before he could respond, Gabriel hummed out another thought.

“Knew you had it in you.” The phrase barely counted as a compliment but it still made Jack's heart soar. No matter how long they'd been friends, there was still nothing quite like tickling Gabriel's humour. Nothing quite like surprising him and being on the receiving end of his approval. Everything about having him as an ally made Jack feel unstoppable. Made him feel like he was growing as a person by the minute just basking in Gabriel's light. Seeing his friend in turn, grow by being at Jack's side. How he could have a positive effect on someone so confident, so strong and solitary, was beyond him. But here, seeing Gabriel Reyes' soft side, there wasn't a doubt that they only made each other stronger by being together. It made his heart jumble up with a feeling he couldn't describe.

He leaned into Gabriel's space, letting the scent of his cologne envelop him. Peppered with the smell of familiar aftershave. Jabbing a finger toward the menu, Jack kept his gaze focused on Gabriel's face, watching the way his eyes lit up. Lips parted, exposing an incisor with his crooked smile.

“I scouted out the milkshake menu before you got here.” The way Gabe's expression softened wasn't lost on him. “And I don't know about _you_ but I could go for a good old fashioned burger for the first time since...” His brows furrowed, suddenly unsure of when the last time he'd had a burger instead of the high specialty diet from the SEP program.

“Los Angeles.” Gabe murmured for him, looking decisively at the menu. Jack leaned back into his own seat, focusing on the holo menu before him. A stint of silence falling between them. He let himself take extra time to read every bit of the menu even though he'd made up his mind on what he wanted long before he stepped inside the diner. Just in case something else caught his eye. The waitress returned after seeing them finally focused in on the holo menu.

“You boys know what you want?” Her voice drawing Jack's attention upward. Young, had the look of someone who'd lived in the same town her whole life. Apron faded with use. He and Gabe shared a silent look before he turned back to her with a nod.

“Yeah. I'll take your best, good old cheeseburger, and a strawberry milkshake.”

“And you, hon?”

“Don't laugh.” Gabriel said lightly. “Cheeseburger, watermelon shake.” She smiled, jotting down the order on an old fashioned flip notebook the size of her palm.

“And a side of fries.” Jack added. She walked away to call out something Jack didn't understand a word of into the mouth of the kitchen. Leaving the top sheet of her notebook on the windowsill behind the bar before moving on to other customers.

“You're predictable.” Jack commented, not making eye contact. A finger tracing patterns on his glass.

“Maybe.” Was Gabriel's response, tickled with laughter.

The fries and shakes came first, the two of them leaning into each other's space over the gap between the bar stools. Arms brushing as they battled over the steaming french fries. Gabriel's company making the weight on Jack's shoulders from this week vanish. Making time and space seem suddenly irrelevant in this tiny world they shared. Only halfway seated on his stool, breathing everything about Gabriel Reyes in. Basking in his laugh. Watching the way he annihilated his milkshake before the burger even had a chance to grace his tongue. It was far past dark by the time Jack shouldered Gabriel off so he could cover the bill. Gabe's halfhearted protests carrying them out of the diner and into the warm summer night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another big thank you as usual to octonaut and grossly for helping me beta and edit.
> 
> dicks out for 7up commercial gabriel reyes


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel found himself, one sock missing, sweats and no shirt, standing in his own doorway at 4 in the morning. Face to face with a kid. They shared a tired look, lids heavy, arms crossed in mirror of each other. Bright blue pajamas with birds all over them draping off of her limbs. Gabriel sniffed.

“Gabriel. This is my daughter Fareeha.” He recognized her, of course. She was a bit older looking than the holo image Ana always carried around, but he recognized her. He raised a palm a few inches off his bicep in greeting and murmured a hello that barely constituted as english. She gave him a halfhearted wave in return. “We're getting called out on emergency and I need you to keep an eye on her.” Fareeha was looking up at him, unblinking. Her face just as impassive from sleep as his probably was. A tinge of annoyance passed through him at getting woken up the one time he was actually sound asleep.

“What if _we_ get called out on emergency.” Gabriel finally moved his gaze toward Ana. One hand running over his brow, eye pushed shut by the palm of his hand. Her brows were stern.

“You're the person I completely trust, and I know you'll put her in the care of someone _you_ trust if something happens.” He wanted to tell her, _Children don't belong here, shoulda left her at home._ He bit his tongue. Knowing full well how much Ana bragged about her daughter, how much she missed her. His mind wandered to a moment spent with Jack only recently. The _perfect_ moment. They’d been sitting together alone over coffee when Gabriel had been called out on duty suddenly, taking Blackwatch with him to another continent for 4 days straight. Regret and annoyance still gnawed at his gut at the fact he hadn't been able to say what had been plaguing his mind for months now. There was no such thing as a perfectly opportune time for family in this business.

“Alright.” He surrendered. Ana took her daughter by the shoulders and bundled her into the space next to Gabe. He didn't move a muscle, only flicked his eyes downward to watch as Ana dropped to one knee, at eye level with the kid.

“Fareeha, behave for Commander Reyes. I'll be back soon.”

“Commander Reyes.” Fareeha repeated. “That one?”

“Yes. If you are _super_ nice to him, he'll probably show you some cool stuff around base, ok? Commander Reyes has a sweet tooth, ask him out for ice cream.” Gabriel muttered a _‘Don’t blackmail me like this.’_ as Ana ushered the child past Gabriel and into his room. “Now get some rest.” He didn't bother turning around to watch her enter his space, making eye contact with Overwatch's second in command instead.

“Good hunting.” His words were bleary with sleep, a yawn tugging at his jaw.

“Gabriel.” Ana's eyes were firm. “Thank you.” He waved a dismissive hand, a gesture he'd received from her only a thousand times before.

“No problem, get outta here.” In a flurry of coat, Ana had turned away, marching down the hallway. Gabriel lingered in his doorway for a minute longer before returning to his room and shutting the door behind him. His bedside lamp was the only light in the room, casting heavy shadows, bathing a third of the room in a warm orange glow. Fareeha was in the center of the maelstrom that had been laundry day, abandoned and forgotten by the time he meandered into his room about four hours prior. Her toes resting on the leg of a pair of pants. She yawned.

“C'mon princess, let's get you back to bed.” Gabriel scooped her up, hands underneath her arms, airlifting her across the space of his floor to plop her onto his similarly chaotic bed. Grateful for the fact he'd thought to wash his bedding first yesterday. Her brows furrowed.

“Princess? I'm not a princess. I'm gonna be a soldier.” He eased himself to a seat next to her with a yawn. His knees splayed, Gabriel stared at his one bare foot. Her little feet kicking lightly through the air, unable to touch her toes to the ground.

“Like your mom, huh.” Fareeha made a frustrated noise.

“She says I can't.” Surprise gripped Gabriel, and he turned his gaze toward the kid sitting next to him. Her brows were furrowed in the same way he'd seen Ana's furrow a million times. The stern and worried look in Ana's eye when she'd relinquished Fareeha into his care. Gabriel inhaled slowly, resetting his breathing pattern with a sigh.

“It's a pretty tough job.”

“Mom says you were her Commander for a long time.” He nods, realizing Fareeha wasn’t looking at him to see the movement.

“Yep.”

“Why is Commander Morrison mom's boss now? She always said you were the best.” A strange feeling tickled Gabriel's chest. A hidden peek at Ana's inner thoughts through her kid. He couldn't stop the bashful smile that pulled at his face. A laugh bubbling out. Fareeha's attention was grabbed by this, a particular sparkle in her eyes. Gabriel rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, fingers brushing against his hat, realizing it was crooked on his skull. He adjusted it before speaking.

“I'm Commander of a different unit.”

“Why?” Fareeha's brows furrowed again. He laughed again, unused to questions that seemed so self explanatory when he lived them every day.

“Because, Jack—erm, Commander Morrison and I have different skill sets. Now that Overwatch is _bigger_ , they needed two Commanders.” Fareeha nodded slowly, seeming to understand the reasoning well enough.

“But he's the one everyone hears about. Why?” She grumbled.

“That's because he has to do all the boring things like talk to presidents and stuff. I get to do all the exciting stuff.” Her eyes got that sparkle again, looking for something. Gabriel leaned forward on his knees, lowering himself closer to her eye level, his head turned toward her. “Like blow things up and do secret missions.”

“Secret?” Her eyebrows popped up with interest.

“From the public, yeah.”

“Why?” Gabriel hesitated, wondering if Ana would disapprove of this talk. It sort of surprised him to hear that she didn't want her daughter to follow in her footsteps. But of anyone, his strike team had really seen the tide of modern war. He wouldn't want his kid to witness some of the things he had either. He took a moment to formulate his answer.

“Because,” He scrunched a corner of his mouth, ran a hand over his facial hair. “Sometimes secrets are too dangerous to not be secrets.” Fareeha nodded her head slowly.

“But, it hurts to keep too many secrets.” Gabriel's heart skipped a beat, his mind far away from the topic of international security. Focused on the mess of Jack's golden hair, the sea of his eyes. He cleared his throat hastily.

“Well, I'm not really the one who keeps them.” Comfortable silence settled over the room. Fareeha's blinking was slow, her lids looking heavier by the minute. Gabriel stood suddenly, pulling the covers back for her with one hand. The other attempted to straighten out the tangle his comforter had become.

“Bed time, captain.” Fareeha's eyes caught on him, glimmering with admiration. He couldn't stop the way his eyebrows raised. A weird feeling clutching his chest at the idea that a kid would look at him like some kind of super hero.

“You think I could be a soldier too?” She asked brightly, clambering underneath the comforter and scooting toward the far side. Leaving a large gap in the space of the bed.

“I think you can be whatever you want.” He replied in earnest. Knowing Ana would probably disapprove, but he wasn't about to quash the kid's inspirations. That gleam in her eye told him enough. She was going to go ahead and do whatever she wanted. He could see his own stubborn drive as a kid reflected in her words. He dropped the comforter over her, earning a stern and disapproving look back.

“Aren't you gonna go back to sleep?” Her hand wiggled free of the comforter, patting the empty space on the bed. “This is _your_ room.” Swallowing discomfort, Gabriel realized the last time he'd spent any kind of time with a kid was when his _sister_ was a kid. And she'd been extremely tetchy about Gabriel entering her room or using any of her stuff, same as he was toward her. He wasn't sure how to behave in front of a ten year old, not anymore. Not for a long time.

“Well, yeah but you need it more than me. I barely sleep anyway.” Gabriel admitted.

“I have a hard time sleeping without my dog.” Fareeha's eyes were sharp on him, almost gold, like her mother's. Looking at him expectantly. “Maybe you just need a friend.” His thoughts drifted toward Jack Morrison again without his permission.

“Are you saying I don't have any friends?” He laughed, yanking the one sock off his foot before clambering underneath the covers.

“Nah, we can be friends. You seem cool.” She mumbled, words already blurred with sleepiness.

“Not as cool as you.” Gabriel nudged her lightly, earning a giggle.

 

\--------------------------—

 

Reaper opened his mouth to bellow a threat, startled by the scream that came out instead. Winston's face flashing in the unstable light cast by the device in his hands. The electricity was arcing through Reaper's body, setting his muscles into spasms, boiling him from the inside out. He could feel every space in his body start to disintegrate. Spurts of hot embers bursting free from the smoky holes forming in his chest, his limbs. His yell strangled as his eyes rolled back into his head. A flash of white. And then nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was aware of what might be his fingertips. A liver, a lung. Straining to push the molecules back together. All the while he was seeing several things, from several places. An empty street, buildings haunting overhead. Seawater eating away at the unused docks. The humming noise of a server room. Reaper had never found himself blown to smithereens. Shot full of holes, sure. It usually hurt to put his flesh back together, like containing an open wound by dipping it in resin. It staunched the flow, immortalizing the ache that came with, at least until he fed again. But _that_ was nothing like this. He could feel his consciousness attempting to slip by the second, his being drifting apart slowly. For the first time in a while, he wasn't sure he could put himself back together. Consciousness drifting through his scattered self. He had to find somewhere safe. A corner of a familiar lab. The mess hall that hadn't been used in decades, cloth draped over all of the furniture. A sandbar hidden in the cliffs, overlooking a tiny patch of calm ocean.

_Focus._

He wanted to yell, wanted to sweat, ball his hands into fists. The effort was monumental, a disembodied pain scattered all across the island. Reaper tried to pull his form together, doubled over, hands seeking his shoulders. Smoke started to envelop his vision, poured out of a mouth that was starting to fall into place. He could feel every single tooth shifting into position in his jaw. His familiar clothing beginning to materialize from the debris of himself. Lungs unfurled in his chest, heaving for air. Reaper found his voice, gagging on the beach, watching his legs waver as he put them back together. Pushing his intestines into the cavern of his gut they belonged in. His cells seeking each other out like a magnetic puzzle. Clawed gloves dug into his biceps in some sort of instinctual attempt to root himself to reality. A knee hit the sand first, his body toppling onto one side, his shoulder digging into the sand. Kicking up pale grains that peppered the surface of his mask. He was still curled around himself as his molecules poured back into him. By the second it got easier for the pieces to fall into place, but the agony and energy of it all was crashing down on him like a storm at open sea, sweat drenching his brow. He lay in the cold sand until he was whole again. Lay there for what could have been an hour or more as tremors rocked his muscles from the effort. Waited for his breathing to stop being laboured, sucking air greedily into his reformed lungs. He watched the ocean lap against the sandbar a few yards away as the shakes faded and his breath evened, leaving him exhausted and curled up on the ground.

Reaper let his eyes close, slipping into unconsciousness right where he fell. Claimed by the black pit of sleep.

A shock of golden hair between his fingertips. Gabriel let his dark hands push through the strands, watching the way the morning light passed through. Tiny waterfalls of light he could take between his fingers, let it pool in his hand. His fingertips gently grazing across the scalp, sending the tufts of hair into humourous positions. He followed his movement up with the careful brushing down of Jack's hair. Smoothing it back into place as much as it would go. Golden eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks, chest rising and falling gently in sleep. Lips parted slightly. Gabriel's other hand on his stubbled cheek. He made tiny hearts with his thumb over Jack's prominent cheekbone. Embarrassment at his own sentimentality burning hot in his face.

Gabriel leaned in, wanting to place his lips on Jack's warm skin. But his eyes were open. Cold and distant, bags beneath his eyes. The fierce blue of his iris trained on a place past Gabriel's gaze. Straight into his heart. He could feel the bitter fury in himself swell against Jack's stare. Unblinking.

“ _Focus.”_ Jack's voice said, mouth still. Lips chapped, wrinkles pulling his greyed skin. Gabriel ran his claws through the silver hair. Blood coming up as he ripped into Jack's scalp. Blood seeping down his forehead. Pooling on the soft white pillow.

“ _Focus.”_

Dark smoke seeped across the pillowcase, underneath the comforter. Fingernails that scraped across the sheets harmlessly. Bullet holes were littered through Gabriel's chest, past the kevlar. Bleeding out in Jack's embrace. He could smell death on both of them as he pressed his bare face into Jack's chest. Feeling his soul, hot and oily with life seep into his gaping mouth. Smoke and shadows sucking away at the cadaver he lay with.

 

Reaper jolted awake, an ache starting up in his entire body the second the smell of saltwater hit his nose. Groaning, he pulled into a tighter ball for a moment. Remaining in a tight fetal pose as the sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffside around the corner lulled him back into reality. The taste of his dream still hot on his tongue. A broiling, seething fury in his gut. He opened his eyes, glaring out at the sea. The dark of night had come and gone. Even the day had passed by as he slept, the sunset beginning to paint the sky. Reaper ignored the ache. He hefted himself to his feet, doing his best to brush off as much sand as he could manage. He felt stiff with age, the empty feeling in his chest gnawing at his everything, coupled with the ache of the night prior. With a quick motion he popped the stiffness out of his neck and let himself dip into the shadows.

Luckily, the transport his team had taken in to Gibraltar was still awaiting in the outcropping of rock Reaper had lead them to. A medium speedboat, big enough for a small squadron and supplies. They’d grappled up the sheer cliff face upon landing, but given where he landed up, Reaper had no chance getting back to the boat outside of a precise shadowstep. All the grappling equipment lay with the bodies he’d left in Winston’s lab. The boat was bobbing softly in the waves, protected by the harsh swell by large rocks. Reaper plopped into the driver’s seat and let the engine start with a roar. He navigated out of the maze of rocks and sped across the open ocean toward land. Chewing on the details of the mission and how awry they had gone in the end. It made him grind his teeth irritably.

90%.

He’d been so close to obtaining the details of where Dr. Angela Ziegler was. He knew she was alive, somewhere, doing whatever sick experiments she’d cooked up this time. Years and years of knowing her had never conditioned his mind to the idea that she could be such a sadist. The cold, clinical stare she’d given him as she watched him fall to pieces over and over again. At the time, he’d thought little of it. She was just doing her job as she always had, sewing them back together mission after mission. That is…

 

 

_There was a loud crack of gunfire, startling Gabriel out of his focused stupor. A swirl of smoke spewed free from his body at the break in his focus. Sunlight dappled on the windows, filtering through the break of trees. He pushed himself off of the gurney with a huff. Bare feet padded across the tile floor, out of his room, down the hallway. Dr. Ziegler was nowhere to be seen, despite making sure he cast a look around every corner for her. Gabriel hadn_ _’t seen her since last night. No doubt, out from the private lab for supply shopping or some other menial errand he couldn’t attend. Not while he was still struggling to keep his cells together. Time in this building slipped away like his body did moment by moment. He’d stopped counting the days, the months. All the hate, all the suspicion was little more than a burning coal lost in his head. Keeping his body from disintegrating took precedence to all that had consumed him before. What did it matter. Overwatch was dead, and Gabriel Reyes was a dead man. There was nothing left to hate, no corruption left to root out. It was all over._

_Gabriel pushed the doors to the lab open, passing through the decontamination field between the two sets of doors before stepping out into the fresh morning air. Something piqued his attention, to his right. A sensation he couldn_ _’t describe that tickled the back of his skull. He relished the feeling of soil and grass between his toes as he jogged around the corner of the building. Greeted by the sight of a still body on the far end of the clearing. Large antlers poking up toward the sky, like a set of hands grapsing for a heaven that didn’t exist. It was still as he closed the distance between himself and the body. The feeling in the back of his skull was still pestering him, the ache behind his eyes and in his chest as strong as ever. Footsteps slowed to a stop with the buck at his feet._

_Something shifted in the corpse. The ache in his chest amplified considerably, and he could feel the air shift around his flesh. A slick, oily feeling started up, making him double over with a suppressed gag. Made his skin crawl. Gabriel groaned, struggling not to drop to one knee. His vision warped. The colours of the clearing, of the blood soaking the grass, became sharper. Brighter. Overwhelming his senses. The air around the body of the buck seemed to seethe like heat on the surface of asphalt, cracked and boiling on a summer day in Los Angeles. Gabriel outstretched his palm to watch the way his fingers wavered in his own vision. The ache doubled twice over, ripping a pained sound out of his throat. His palm shot to his lips, a vain attempt at stifling the nausea that threatened to overturn his stomach onto the ground._

_There was something rising out of the body. Gabriel could do nothing but watch, frozen, hunched over with his hand clapped over his mouth. A strange orb was ascending toward him, sickly looking, wafts of oily looking smoke drifting upward. A thick liquid dripped off of it. The sluices vanished before they could hit the corpse that lay below it. The blood behind Gabriel_ _’s eyes pulsed. He recognized this shape. He’d seen it a thousand times when his comrades fell from exhaustion on the battlefield. A winged figure descending from the sky, fixing her beam of light on the strange orb that hovered above his squadmates. He’d seen it pour out of his own chest as well, moments before he faded from consciousness, only to awaken later as good as new._

_He consumed it, letting it soak into his skin. For the first time since he_ _’d awoken in Zielger’s lab, the ache faded. Power surging through his veins. He felt strong, together. All his cells fell into place, with only deteriorated drafts of smoke coming off him periodically. Holding himself together came with ease, letting the bad cells float away without taking everything else with them came with ease._

_A branch snapped._

_The hunter stood at the far edge of the clearing, one foot still trained within the forestry behind him. Fear burned in his eyes. Gabriel could feel the life rolling off of him, pulsing through his body. The feeling at the back of his skull piqued again as he lasered in on the man standing across the open space. Gabriel couldn_ _’t help the laugh that echoed out of his throat as he sank into the ground. Letting his body do what felt right. All of his cells dissipated, and he could see from a thousand angles at once. Watching the way the hunter looked around frantically for him, taking one step backwards to flee. As quickly as he had vanished, Gabriel found himself behind the panicked hunter. Found his hands trained around his skull. He could feel the stranger’s heart rate spike in the instant before Gabriel snapped his neck and let his body crumple to the ground at his feet. Pulling the orb free of the fresh body was even easier this time, only small waves of nausea roiling in his gut as he took the soul into his hands. Let it sink into his bloodstream._

_Gabriel hadn_ _’t felt this alive in ages. Hadn’t felt this kind of fury in ages._

_Ziegler had made him a monster and hadn_ _’t told him. Hadn’t even_ warned _him. Why? Gabriel hissed, a push of smoke curling out of the corners of his mouth as he stalked across the clearing. Knuckles creaking with how tightly he clenched his fists. The clinical and distant gaze in her eyes was fresh in his mind. Her words of encouragement, how she told him she didn_ _’t understand his condition, but she always had a device to help him control it. How many times had she attempted to make something like him? How many had died in the rigourous process she’d put him through to keep him alive? Gabriel knew how rare someone from the SEP was, no doubt he and Jack Morrison were the first she’d encountered. It wasn’t their friendship that made her inclined to keep him here._

_He was her pet project. The only thing strong enough to withstand whatever chaos she was brewing in this lab of hers._

_Gabriel had accepted that he was alive long ago, had accepted her attempt to save him that he didn_ _’t deserve. Only to be betrayed by discovering she had probably used his body for some kind of strange experimentation on the human body. The human soul. Endless Overwatch funding had backed Dr. Angela Ziegler for years without a single question as to what she was using the money for. Furthering the cause of medicine, furthering her goals to save as many as she could. He’d heard her talk about it a million times. If only they’d known what that entailed._

_But Gabriel Reyes knew._

 

 

The shore approached, and Reaper barely bothered to park the boat. The anger seething in his stomach made him want to shadowstep to land and let the vehicle crash and burn against the docks. He opted instead to restrain it as intended, rather than leave a flaming mess for someone else to deal with. There was enough for HQ to yell at him about as it was. With it abandoned at its designated space, he stormed further inland before preforming a shadowstep into the closest Talon facility. Appearing in the midst of the staff stationed at this particular warehouse. A few cries of fright echoed across the space. Reaper shoved himself into the personal bubble of the nearest pilot that had been milling about.

“Take me to HQ.” He snarled. The pilot nodded stiffly, a shaky hand reaching for the door of the aircraft he had been leaning against. The other staff he’d been chatting with were steadily retreating away from the furious storm that was Reaper’s lower body. Once the door was open, he poured himself across the cockpit and into the passenger seat before the pilot could even consider getting inside. Reaper could feel the pilot’s high strung pulse through his skin. He was too tired to say another word as the man silently clambered inside after him and taxied them toward the large bay doors. Talon goons were hustling around to slide the hangar doors aside to allow the heli-jet to pass through. The engine warming up with an impatient hum as they wheeled out into the open air of the tarmac, the sunset painting the cockpit a vicious orange. Reaper let his arms cross over his chest and drifted into a shallow, dreamless sleep for the relatively short air hop to Talon’s majour base. Gravity pushing on his body as the pilot lifted them into the air.

He was awoken about five minutes out of landing, Talon HQ asking the pilot to have Reaper report straight in the second they hit the ground. Reaper rolled his eyes behind the mask as the pilot nervously acknowledged and began their descent. Once they were on the ground, Reaper threw open the door and marched across the tarmac toward the main building of the compound. A familiar handler was waiting for him there, in the spacious lobby Talon afforded themselves, sporting a clipboard and a stony indifference in her features.

“Reaper, you’ve been ordered to-”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get on with it.” He drawled, gesturing vaguely toward the doors into the convoluted hallways that made up Talon HQ. She turned on a heel sharply, not bothering to ensure he was following her.

Reaper stalked through the hallways, feeling smoke curling off his form in droves. Talon recruits hastily giving him extra space by nearly flattening themselves against the walls. The handler leading the way was clutching onto her usual clipboard. Knuckles white. He seethed, feeling another gout of smoke push around his mask and out the rim of his hood. Luckily he was considered enough of a threat, a loose canon, that generally no one he _had_ to report to in Talon was willing to put up a fight against him. That made post mission debrief a million times easier, because as it turned out, terrorist cell debriefs were just as annoying and authoritative as military ones when you weren’t in charge.

A familiar shape caught his eye down the hall. Her sharp yellow eyes boring into his mask. If being practically dead himself was unnerving, the way she took a breath in either direction once every three minutes was terrifying. Her skin pale and blue with death. Looking at her was like seeing bloated corpses in a muddy battle field, a daily reminder of suspicions he'd clung to for years. They passed each other, making tense eye contact, a gust of troubled air whirling between them. Reaper swallowed the urge to shift uncomfortably in his walk, forcing his gaze forward despite her inability to see his face. He could feel her eyes burning holes in his spine as he followed the handler around he corner.

The debrief room was relatively empty. Only the three usual brass that Talon stuck on his case whenever they needed him to report back, his handler, and himself. An hour of his life burnt away on explaining that his squad had been bested by an oversized chimpanzee. He was just glad to be seated in a chair while his body desperately tried to hang onto the little energy he had left. His arms crossed stubbornly over his chest to disguise the exhaustion. Luckily, the operation had been his idea initially so the only one to be truly disappointed in the failure was himself. After several critical and incredulous looks, Reaper reminded them darkly that he didn't strictly work for them and stormed out of the room. Wisps of black smoke leaving the Talon authoritative bodies with something to think about.

The ache was ever gnawing as he sharked down the hallways with no real destination in mind. Life pulsed through the agents that bustled by him with real places to go and things to finish, the feeling making his chest tighten uncomfortably. Reaper hadn’t felt this low on energy in ages. Probably not since the days he lurked in Ziegler’s laboratory like a caged animal. He resisted the urge to growl at the thought to push it out of mind, rounding another corner to find himself face to face with his own quarters. Reaper paused in front of the door, one hand half outstretched for the doorknob. He could try to sleep… but there was work to be done. He’d have to reformulate a plan. The gears in his head were already working overtime to try and figure out what his next step was. Athena was the most reliable way to track down Dr. Ziegler, but with his mission failing terribly, his interests came at a higher price. He couldn’t attempt the same heist twice, and that was if Talon even gave him the space to attempt at the information a second time. With how impressively wrong the mission had gone he wouldn’t be surprised if he was put back on missions of Talon interest, rather than personal interest. They gave him plenty of space to do as he pleased, but if he didn’t cooperate to a degree all of his investment and grip over the organization would be as good as gone. He had to worm his way into their ranks to root out everything he needed to know. It wasn’t as simple as finding Ziegler. He had to destroy _everything_. She just happened to be his first priority. With a noise of disgust, he let his cells start to dissipate. A shadowstep landing him on a high walkway in the HQ warehouse, where he sagged against the railing. Watching a gust of smoke leak out of him, a waterfall of abyssal black drifting down the side of the railing before dissipating into nothingness.

Things were getting complicated.

Reaper wanted to scold himself for underestimating any Overwatch facility with an agent still residing inside. He’d been part of their ranks long ago, it was only foolishness that made him believe Winston would have gone soft with time. One of their most loyal and hard working, dedicated, agents in Overwatch’s prime. Reaper watched another draft of smoke reach down like a withered hand, tendrils grasping for the life forms milling about bellow them. This had been his _first_ attempt on heisting an Overwatch facility with his own goal and plan in mind. He should have known to be more careful. No doubt he would have to get back in Talon’s good graces by playing the loyal hound for a spell before they’d let him run loose with their assets again. Getting his claws on Dr. Ziegler became much more difficult now, no doubt she would somehow catch wind of the intruder on an old base, looking for data on Overwatch agents. Not to mention how difficult it would make the rest of his aims. Talon would be more suspicious of him for a time and he was now on the radar of _any_ Overwatch agent that still lived. Which put his top target at an impossible range.

It was only suspicion and his gut that made Reaper believe Jack Morrison was out there alive somewhere. Collections of scrap paper taped across his walls like the fragments of his life long past. Reaper studied them long into the night, rather than fight the sleep that dodged him still. If _he_ lived, Morrison had to have. Leaving Reaper chasing rumours, ghosts, and hearsay. Paranoia that kept his eyes open long into the dark hours. On the bad days, it was the only thing that kept him moving forward. He wouldn’t rest until he’d assured that his revenge had been completed. Jack Morrison had to die, had to stay dead. Reaper would ghost this earth for ages to make sure Morrison was going to stay six feet under.

“You 'ave slipped. Dearly.” A gout of black smoke rushed out of his lungs. His hands startling out of their tight, angry grip on the steel bar. Widowmaker was leaning against the railing at his side, staring out over the warehouse of lower function goons hard at work with some prerogative Reaper couldn't care less about. Shifting crates around the concrete space below them. He glared at her from beneath his mask, furious at the fact she'd gotten the jump on him.

“Hmph.”

“What happened?” She was staring back, her face empty. The question made something in his gut twist.

 

 

_Gabriel turned menacingly toward the lab that lurked in the center of the forest. A tingling in the back of his skull still present, leading his gaze toward a far corner of the building. By his memory of Zielger_ _’s lab, he could only guess it was the general direction of some of her private laboratories within the building. Rooms he hadn’t been granted access to, and hadn’t asked for access of. He’d always been too busy trying to stay in a singular room to worry about whatever the rest of her property contained. Not until this, not until he put together the monster she’d made him. The feeling of betrayal was a hot coal in his gut. He narrowed his eyes, sinking into the shadows, focusing hard on the area that the feeling in his skull pointed him toward. He felt as if every fibre of his being was bursting with power, but even then the longer jump sucked away a decent bit of the energy he’d gotten from feeding off of the corpses in the meadow. It took a moment of focus to isolate where he was going to reappear, and let his molecules come back together. Watching Ziegler’s shocked face come into focus through the swath of shadows that was the other side of Gabriel’s existence. A pulse of blood throbbed behind his eyeballs as he came back into existence. The colours of the room sparking brightly. Dr. Ziegler was taking a step back, her delicate hand balanced on the table behind her. Pushing a stack of papers askew._

“ _Gabriel!?” She fought to bring some control back to her expression. A friendly smile tweaking her lips, nervousness hot in her eyes. It made him sick. “How did you…” Gabriel stepped forward, shoving her chair violently to the side before slamming his hand onto the table surface next to her. The movement brought down every inch of control her expression held. A familiar ferocity taking root in her face instead, a determination he’d seen a thousand times with her at his side. Gabriel wondered how often she hid this side of her beneath a kind intent. Wondered if she’d planned this all along._

“ _Surprise.” He drawled, pushing into her space. “Did you think you could hide forever, Ziegler?” He felt the paneling that surrounded the space of her desk splinter beneath his bare hands._

“ _I was not hiding from you, how did you get in here? Are you not feeling well?” Gabriel laughed darkly._

“ _You know… I feel better than EVER.” Ripping the paneling off the desk came with ease, shards of wood flying in all directions. Angela ducked and twirled out of his reach immediately with a gasp. Skittering backwards across the tile floor. “How long did you think you could hide this from me? In_ our _line of work? How many CORPSES-_ _” With one hand he flipped the desk over, the glass of water that had been on the surface smashing into the tile. “do we see on the daily, Zielger? You thought you could hide this kind of power from me?”_

“ _Gabriel.” Angela’s expression and words were heavy with a warning he wasn’t about to listen to._

“ _I mean, haha! The endless amount of money at your disposal! And we all blindly believed you were just doing what you had to. Studying the right causes. How did we spend battle after battle seeing you pluck something so fucked up out of our fallen bodies without even_ questioning _how it worked or why? You were counting on us to trust you!_ _” Gabriel lifted the chair and hurled it through a pane of glass in the wall. Through the observation window and into the tight hallways of her laboratory facility. Angela’s cry of surprise echoed in the space of the room._

“ _And I_ _ **did**_ _!_ _” With all the furniture within his reach destroyed, Gabriel turned on the doctor, gliding toward her slowly. He was vaguely aware that his lower body had fallen away. His legs a storm of furious black smoke. He’d never felt more in control, despite being almost completely out of body. “Even with everything I’d seen happening to Overwatch, even with all the questions I’d asked. The people I learned not to trust. I never_ never _doubted you. And then you turned me into_ _ **THIS**_ _._ _” He roared, smoke swirling out of his mouth. The colours of the room were absurdly saturated, practically vibrating with the way they clashed against each other. Angela’s clothes seemed to have a shaky glow with the way the colours fought each other for territory across her chest and arms. There was no fear in her eyes, only a light of fire that made Gabriel’s nerves alight. One arm pinched between her back and the cabinet against the wall, the other reached outward, fingers splayed against the flat of the cabinet door._

_She lunged toward him suddenly. Her hand whipping out from behind her, palm outstretched and shooting toward his head. Gabriel stepped back, legs materializing, his heel catching on a sheet of paper on the ground. The doctor collided with him bodily and for a moment that was it._

_And then a feeling of pure dark sucked away at him. Pulled his consciousness away. Gabriel groaned and fought the sensation as his vision dimmed. Going from bright, to natural, to shades of grey. His limbs were heavy. Her palm pressed against his forehead, glowing softly with some tech he_ _’d never seen before. Angela Ziegler’s face faded from view. Expression determined, a sad spark in her eyes._

_His last conscious thought passed through like an ambling senior citizen._

She’d been ready for this.

 

 

A crawl of smoke rolled out from the inside of his hood. Despite meaning what she asked, there was nothing in Widowmaker’s gaze. A predatory intelligence driving her questions, zero personal interest behind them. As usual, he felt as if she was silently composing a file on every single thing he did or said. In a moody tornado of smoke, Reaper turned away from her, letting his lower body become part of the storm.

“Read the report if you're so curious.”

“If you insist...” Her voice was like her set of yellow eyes, boring into his soul. Like she could taste every insecurity, every residual fear. How could she judge? They had fallen just as far separately as they now did together. Conspirators of a dark world that bubbled beneath the surface of the past. It enveloped them like a black cloud.

 

\--------------------------—

 

Time passed, Reaper idled in Talon’s HQ waiting for _something_ to happen. Burning late hours alone in the training room hefting weights about to distract himself. Night was the only time he could safely get away with dressing down, and locking the weight room doors to burn energy. The treadmill had become his best friend after dozens of 3 A.M.s spent sprinting the dark hours away. Reaper checked the clock mounted on the wall. 5:32. The base would be waking soon. He powered down the machine, carefully avoiding his own reflection as he made his way into the showers. The call of coffee running through his mind as he took a marginally cold shower to cool down from his workout. As usual, not as refreshing as he remembered it being years ago. By now, it was all standard practice, a force of habit. He meticulously dried himself off before taking the time to re dress in his usual garb. Carefully affixing his mask before he went about unlocking the doors to the showers and training room.

On mornings like this, Reaper was usually one of the first people on base to meander into Talon’s mess. The first pot of coffee only barely starting to boil when he stalked into the empty room. One of Talon’s brass he never had to deal with, whose name he never bothered to learn, was leaned against the table with the coffee machines. Hip cocked against the edge of the table, eyes heavy with sleep. He approached her, scrutinizing the way she was already pristinely dressed. Modern terrorism looked like every other military outfit. Higher ups in black tie that always managed to be up and about earlier than you. He grimaced, remembering his own days as the black tie that was always first up in base. Luckily he’d never been one to follow practice of dressing all the way up around base, firmly believing then it made him look inhuman and distant as a leader. It wasn’t a trait he admired in his higher ups.

He didn’t grace the woman with a greeting or even a tilt of the head as he waited nearby for the coffee to finish. Patiently waited for her to finish fixing her mug before he moved in on the space to start his own. If there was one thing he hated, it was people hovering around him as he set up his coffee in the morning. Reaper rummaged through the drawers for his stash of cinnamon he’d hid behind a box of mixing straws, dumping sugar and creamer into the mug with his other hand. After a few moments passed of being unable to locate the bag of spice in the drawer, he turned his full attention to the drawer with a snarl, shoving things around until he found it. He dropped a dash of the spice in his drink before carefully tucking it in the back of the drawer again. Reaper wasted a few moments to rearrange the contents of the drawer to some semblance of sanity. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him as he made his way out of the mess, his usual mug clutched in his clawed gloves, steam rising from the lip. A few feet short of the doorway he turned his head toward her suddenly to catch her off guard. Watching the way she snapped her attention back to her breakfast, her pulse jumping. He laughed softly, knowing she could hear him.

Halfway to his room, the scent of his meticulously crafted mug of coffee taunting him through his mask, he was interrupted. His handler stepped around the corner. Knuckles white on her clipboard.

“If you’ll come with me, Reaper.” He looked down at the mug, then back at her. Silent as the grave. She swallowed nervously. “You may bring your breakfast with you.”

“I don’t eat well with others.”

“The conference room can provide you with a straw.” Glowering behind the mask, he didn’t respond. She’d been working with him long enough know to understand he’d surrendered. Her heels clicked sharply on the tile as she turned, leading him through the base as if he didn’t already know where they were going. They did this on average twice a week. His hatred toward her and her rigid behaviour was barely contained. She pushed the double doors to the conference room open, standing to the side for him to pass through.

The usuals were all present. Plus one. Reaper scowled, skirting the edge of the room toward the table where they always kept drinks and the like.

“Reaper, good of you to join us.” Overseer Nolan’s voice cut at his back. _Like I had a choice._ He thought venomously, plucking a straw out of the short porcelain cup they kept them in. “We’ve made some decisions during this week as to how to further our interests in working with you as an associate.” Reaper rolled his eyes behind his mask as he turned around. One boot yanked a chair out from underneath the table that he promptly dropped himself into. Slumping against the back of the chair. He wedged the straw behind his mask, sucking at his hot beverage. Compressed through the straw it was almost too hot to attempt drinking. He stubbornly continued, knowing his cells wouldn’t hold up a burn on his tongue longer than a half hour anyway.

“You’ll be partnered with someone else on missions to ensure Talon interests. We’re still happy to receive your consultation as you have provided in the past. If this doesn’t suit you, you are free to go your own way.” The woman he knew as Cabral was speaking now, her pale fingers steepled on the desk.

“Let me guess.” Reaper hissed around the straw, his jaw shifting out of position to accomplish both actions at once. “Your most loyal pet, then?” Nolan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Essex piped into the conversation, gesturing to the extra in the room. “Widowmaker has the highest success rate of any agent we have. As a third party to Talon’s interest, you should be happy to have her at your disposal. There is none better.” Essex’s dark irises were like black holes boring into him. Reaper didn’t flinch at her stare, taking a very audible sip through his straw. Of the three brass usually stuck on his case, she was the most authoritative. The one whose name always decorated the bottom of files passed into his palm.

“I work better alone.” Reaper growled.

“We can gladly reassign the quarters we’ve lent to you for the duration of your consultation, if that’s what you desire.” Something about Essex’s close cropped hair made her even more terrifying. Everything about her was cold and powerful. High cheekbones, her eyes as dark as night, skin like ebony. In complete control of everything she could fit in her wide stretched palm. Reaper needed her to trust him. It was the only way he could get to the bottom of the reek he’d been sniffing out for decades. A carefully concealed sigh pushed curls of smoke through his mask, and his grip relinquished his mug to the table surface.

“No. It won’t be a problem.” He crossed his arms solidly over his chest, trying to reflect some of Essex’s power back at her. A carefully maintained facade of could care less that he wore like a banner. The woman staring him down seemed to soften, slightly. Her eyes still as hawk-like as ever as she leaned back into her chair.

“That’s good to hear. Your partnership will start immediately.” Nolan slid a manila file across the desk’s surface toward him and Reaper let it slip beneath one clawed finger, trapping it there. He made no movement to open it. “Our scientists have expressed interest in this relic. Your first mission together will be to acquire it and bring it back to HQ.” Reaper dragged the file closer with his one claw, watching a bead of sweat roll down Nolan’s temple. He flicked it open, not bothering to pick it up off the table, and brought the straw back to his mask to continue sucking down his coffee.

_Doomfist._ Reaper’s eyes flicked toward Widowmaker, who was staring straight into his mask. A chill rolled up his spine.

“Is this a joke?”

“Not at all.” Cabral’s eyebrows furrowed at his scoff, her fingers tightening against one another. She hadn’t moved an inch since he stepped into the room. Essex and Widowmaker seemed to be the only people in the room that he didn’t make nervous. And that made _him_ nervous.

“There’s not a chance in hell the thing still works.” Reaper flipped the manila folder shut again and let his head tilt upward, looking down slightly at the rest of the people present. Nolan was wringing his hands, a thin smile on his lips.

“That isn’t an issue, we’re going to _fix_ it.” He took a long inhale, letting silence weigh heavily on the room, ignoring the tingling of Widowmaker’s sharp stare on him. Reaper remembered the Doomfists all too well. Maybe once, the idea of relighting that kind destruction would have bothered him. The chaos would distract Talon, hell it would distract _everyone_. And that gave Reaper a lot more space to work with than he’d had before. It was the perfect way to re-worm himself closer to what he wanted. And if the Doomfist was involved, no doubt Winston would become involved at some point, giving him one more channel toward his goals. And with Widowmaker tacked to his side, put under his command… No path or weapon was sullied enough for his hand to pass over by now. Even if that weapon was Amélie Lacroix herself, Doomfist, a terrorist cell. Not anymore.

 

 

_The lobby of the Zurich HQ was warm with afternoon sunlight glittering across the tile. G_ _érard Lacroix was clutching onto a stack of files. Talking animatedly to his wife. After her kidnapping, she had begun living in headquarters, protected by the thick walls. The countless agents within. Gabriel nodded at her from across the lobby. A smile graced her lips, but never reached her eyes. They rounded the corner and Gabriel shook the discomfort from his gut. He hadn't slept in days. Buried his nose back in his own notes as the elevator doors opened, ready to bear him back to his office. The empty smile from everyone in base was familiar to him now in his paranoid stupor. The grey circles beneath his eyes frightening people away from arm's reach. The warm light of the lobby was barely a sliver on the tile floor, before the doors shut and Gabriel was swathed in the cold clinical light of the high clearance elevator. Amélie's empty smile vanishing from his mind._

 

 

“When are we going to deploy?” Reaper drawled, sliding the manila folder off the table and tucking it carefully into his cloak. He watched Cabral and Nolan simultaneously relieve a breath they’d been holding.

“As soon as you’re ready.” Essex responded quickly, a spark in her eye. Reaper let his head turn in the direction of his assigned partner. Widowmaker’s gaze had found the window by now, looking outside as if there were something infinitely more interesting beyond it. He knew better, she was paying careful attention to the rest of the room. Playing the same game he was.

“Tomorrow, 0500 hours sharp we move out.” He barked the order and stood, letting the chair slide out of reach. Widowmaker was looking at him again, empty and scrutinizing. Her chest didn’t rise or fall. She was as still as a corpse.

“Copy.” Was her response, slow and thick with her familiar accent. It made something in his chest go cold. Reaper left the conference room in a whirl of his billowing coat, making sure to suck annoyingly down on the straw into his mug as he shouldered through the double doors past his handler. There was no escaping what he would become to taste the blood of those who left him to drown beneath the tar of death.

_I'll become what I have to._

 

\----------------------------

 

In all their years fighting side by side, Jack hadn’t seen Gabriel hurt this badly. Physically, emotionally. It had gone so south near the end. Jack couldn't figure out what he'd done so wrong to make their friendship... and what was more than that, fall apart so thoroughly. Jack crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the frame of the huge windows overlooking the sterile lab Gabriel's body was laying in. Gut wrenchingly still, his breathing shallow and strained. Jack could simultaneously taste the blood on his lips from when Gabe's knuckles caught him in the face, and of his tongue in Jack's mouth. A pang of emotion surged through him. Watching another plume of dark smoke waft out of Gabe's chest.

 

_Gabe roared. His voice echoing in the spacious hall. Distant gunfire peppered the air. Jack had never seen him like this. Never. A blood soaked beast, vibrating with furious intent. In that moment, all the anger that had been seething in his gut that it had come to this, melted down to a watery stew of regret. How had he let it come this far? There was a loud noise, the reverberation shaking the very foundation. Smoke pouring in from the next room over. Gabriel's eyes never left his, despite the fires that were clawing their way into the room. Another explosion went off. Jack's ears rang._

Just like...

_He could almost hear Gabe's voice, muffled over the din of his own ringing ears. Severe, with a tang of relief. Could almost see the way his dark irises softened as Jack lay sprawled in his superior officer's lap. Flames making shadows dance on his face. The Gabe before him now was lunging toward him, attempting to close the gap between them in the empty room. Jack was frozen. Wryly wishing he'd reached up to touch Gabe's cheek in that moment, long ago._

_Another explosion rocked the building. Throwing him off his feet and into the inky black of unconsciousness._

 

 

Angela had said it had something to do with what she was using to try to keep him alive. Utilizing the tech that she used to bring them out of unconsciousness and fatigue in battle, to try and keep Gabe from passing. She'd explained it in terms he couldn't understand. A second time in ones he could vaguely grasp the core concept of. Something to do with his enhanced physique metabolizing anything else she gave to him too fast, something to do with death attempting to drag him under at the same time. Gabriel's body was rapidly sucking in the medicine, metabolizing it at the speed of light. Skirting the fringes of this world and the next. His cells disintegrating and regrowing at a rapid pace. Jack could still her voice in his ears. _He shouldn't be alive. Neither of you should be._

When the explosion had gone off, Reyes had been charging him down. The explosion throwing them bodily into each other. Accelerating his headlong charge into Jack's chest as the blowback enveloped them. The irony of it all. Death in it's final throes, after months of distance and emptiness between them, hurling Gabe into his arms. He gritted his teeth, unable to face Gabe's disfigured frame for any longer. Jack turned his head just a second too late. Seeing another draft of the smoke leaving his body. Angela's footsteps were approaching now, a soft as the worried look in her eyes. She too, leaned against the frame of the window, opposite of where Jack stood. His mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour. Eyes focused on the machinery that blipped constantly around Gabriel Reyes. Anywhere but him. Anywhere but her caring gaze.

“I'm leaving.” He finally murmured. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her head snap toward him. “Don't tell anyone what happened to me.”

“And let your friends think you dead? _Jack_.” He felt like he was being scolded. A pang of hurt ghosting through him as he remembered all the times Ana had lectured him in his younger days. They'd lost so much.

“Someone needs to find out what happened. To Overwatch. To all of us.” Angela had pushed off of her position against the window sill, approaching him. Leaning into his line of sight until he had to look her in the eye. “We need a ghost, Angela.” He swallowed thickly as he looked back toward Reyes' still body. He had it all. In all their years together they'd almost become a single unit. He had everything Jack lacked. Balancing each other out, learning tirelessly from one another in every facet. By the time it fell apart, Gabe had been like his right arm. He hadn't felt whole without him, even with how he lived and breathed what he learned from Reyes. Every, single, day. Now that he was here, faced with his body, Jack couldn't pinpoint where it'd gone all wrong. He'd spent months blaming it on one thing or another. But in the end, he was as lost now as he'd been the moment he realized they were no more.

“Jack, I can't do what you're asking of me.” Angela's thin hands gripped his shoulders, bringing him back to her face. “How could I lie to our family the way you want me to?”

“Don't let them ask.” He said thinly. _Our family_. With finality, he pulled away from her. Jaw tightening against the thick feeling in his throat, the heat in his eyes. “Goodbye Ziegler.”

“Don't... don't call me that now.” Her voice was strung with emotion and Jack had to turn away from her. “Jack!” He let the sound of his breath and rapid footsteps drone her out. Ignored the pricking of tears in the corners of his eyes as he ran from her. Ran from everything. Told himself that _someone_ had to find out the truth. Told himself that he wasn't running from it instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big usual thank you to grossly and octonaut))
> 
> my soft spot for fareeha and gabe being bffs is showing
> 
> wuddup


End file.
